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Six-thirty winter morn, snow keeps falling, silent dawn. A rose by any other name, Eva leaves her Swanbrook home. A kindest heart which always made me ashamed of my own, she walks alone, but not without her name. Eva flies away, dreams the world far away, in this cruel children's game there's no friend to call her name. Eva sails away, dreams the world far away, the good in her will be my sunflower field.