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■ The oak
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When the magic happens,
swift as a gazelle, I find my inner "crystal ball" and crawl right of my shell And when the rings are tossed, I know not where they'll land but I keep my eyes wide open and my head out of the sand I find my self in a hypnotic state as I slowly walk their way, magic my only focus and the moon bright as the day I listen for the soft, low chant and wonder if I dare, but as the circle forms around me, the magic takes me there...
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