The news is yellowing in the rain,
The paper lies with all the words plain,
There in the meadow the paper lies
Read by the ants’ and the stars’ bright eyes.
The news is yellowing in the rain,
Not like the leaves, not like the grain,
Not like the flowers or things that grow,
The news is the color of long ago.
The news is yellowing in the rain,
In the midst of green it lies like stain,
The landscapes won and the faces lost,
The news is yellowing at their cost.
Once this paper was as white as truth,
But the blood turns black that came from youth,
And drawn as the face of the Prince of Pain,
The news is yellowing in the rain.
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