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She walked through the wilderness of her youth, watching the wind, blowing it gently away.
Heaven knows she is walking earth by foot, trying to find a cure for pain. What is her blood made of it, that she canât rest for a day cause love wonât seem to run through her veins. Water keeps on falling from the sky. From her eyes. But heaven knows she keeps trying to find a cure for pain. It would be a lie to walk away. So she keeps on walkinâ and talkinâ. Dreaming and singing. Finding and winning. Losing dreams and receiving wisdom or maybe sometimes just giving up small parts of her and water to go along the way. Wherever the sun may shine upon her, she keeps walking, cause nobody told her there is no cure for pain.
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