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Through all the work I do, through all the time I spend, I am only rewarded with petty numbers that I fret over when they seem to fall. Never a singl..
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Therapeutic record of my personal sorrows. Comment if you like, I just want to release my pain into the ethers.
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A song if you like to sing the words rather than read them.
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Hands of the mother
Growing bare,
If you hear the crisp,
You'll know it's here.
It's time to hide,
It's time to rest,
It's finally Autumn.
..
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There is more and there is less.
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Third Song
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Hand whom guides meto the world I must see,but, I, wish not to be,I'll severe thee.Mouth that speaks love,I rather a dovefrom night's aboveas thee be ..
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Both symbolic and literal
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A second song
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a stroll down memory lane
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