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Deep Sea Radio 2

The night comes riding in,
Riding the crests of radio waves
Behind which strange creatures swim
In lightless submarine caves.

They crouch in the vast blue ocean,
Deep beneath its moonlit spread,
Swaying with confident emotion,
In among their sea-weed bed.

They cannot see or be seen
By us, for fathoms of ether,
Be it aerial or submarine,
Prevent our coming together.

Perhaps it may be unmasked soon,
But the death of Radio 2
Will take a very large moon.


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