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Christmas Cards, part II

So much for the subtle hint. Excuse me for a moment:

"You wouldn't know a subtle hint if it painted itself purple and danced naked on the table in front of you singing 'subtle hints are here again.'"

Sorry about that, I feel much better now.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, that's right. When I asked people for addresses for Christmas cards, I meant it.

However, after getting not a single response, I'm going to have to do this the hard way.

Will the following people (and I use the term in the loosest possible way for some of you) please email me your addresses to andrew(at)hitpoint(dot)com(dot)au:

angie78, catdraco, charlesland, lee7, maelwaedd, omegamorningsta, paxford, rexmundi, stiffscoffin, superstar_pig, the_metatron, thorfinn, xwhateverx.

Those of you who are not Australian had better get that address to me reasonably fast, so I can get the card to you before Christmas.

That is all.

Comments

paxford
Dec. 1st, 2003 01:57 pm (UTC)
Ttthhpppppttt!!!!
And she also likes having replies to emails she sends too! (or has your work account started blocking them out?)

:-D

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Desert Rose

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

I dream of fire
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
And in the flames
Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire

This desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

And as she turns
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns
I realize that nothing's as it seems

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of her love

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

Sweet desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

Sweet desert rose
This memory of Eden haunts us all
This desert flower
This rare perfume, is the sweet intoxication of the fall

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