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Give me Spring
Singing Agathe
This is far from the Spring we were promised, and we rise up in dissent. It shall not be peaceful and it shall not be pretty. Our tulip revolution is a thing to be feared, as it must be. Winter does not back down when faced with halfhearted protests and a weak cry to battle. Winter must be forcibly ejected.

Too brief is the candle of Spring, so quickly subsumed into the rolling parade of our Summer. We cannot allow what minute time it has to be squandered in the shadow of the wicked cold and the harsh snow. Arm yourself, cohorts. It has come to war to prove the hunger of our souls for the dawn of the year to begin.
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