This new season is spring.
It is flying in on an eagle's wing.
The old season is passing.
I am sending it out,
with a zing, from My sling.
With a ping and a ding, it will feel My sting.
In spring, there is no room for an old fling.
Cut the string.
Bow down to your King.
You are His chosen queen.
Slip on your ring, and sing My love, sing.
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