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■ The oak
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Welcome to this crippled spring of no blossom
When wind blows away only deaf footsteps Where we are whole, but never complete, Sometimes just sad with souls bitter and meek. Another summer will come, a deluge of dreams We will lose track, we'll hide the sunbeams, Some glitter in the dark, like fishbones or cat eyes, Some of us, we're blown away like smoke from a dying cigarette... I paint this world in anger and despair, I scream because I refuse, I omitt and I lie... I have only you, no control, and in fact... no wish to die...
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