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I know the pain you feel is deep,
your want from life is simple peace.
And though I cannot guarantee,
please listen closely, as I speak.

Presently you stroll alone,
searching for a hand to hold.
You feel your sorrow in your bones,
in harshest sun, you still feel cold.

Pre - dawn, however, is darkest night
that must be followed by morning light.
I pray you won't give up the fight,
the universe will set things right.

I know at times, it seems unclear
that happiness is always near.
But wholly I believe my dear,
someday soon, you'll find some cheer.
Goodbyes never hurt me
It's always the memories that follow
To live in such a cruel reality
A world so insensitive and shallow

A goodbye is just a moment
But the memories are stuck on replay
To think we deserve such torment
We remember each and every day

A goodbye will not hurt you
But the memories will shatter your being
Break your heart into pieces
Your life may even lose meaning

Goodbyes do not hurt you
They are only the beginning
A life that was once so simple
Turned into a life so unforgiving
 Mar 2015 Bruce Ruston
Noah
Maybe if I close my eyes
my fingertips will feel like yours
Maybe if I lay deathly still
I can pretend you're here by me
Maybe if we stay online
we'll be in the same bed one day
Maybe if I inhale deeply
You'll be there to exhale for me.
The rhythm of this ***** sorry
 Mar 2015 Bruce Ruston
Joe Cole
I walk away from this ***** grey quay, step onto an equally ***** old boat
Only God and a sailors skill will keep this old thing afloat

I'm saying goodbye to the place that I know, a place of hunger and toil
I sail in search of the promised land, of sunshine and rich fertile soil

Will I look back to the place that I've left as I sail off over the sea?
No, for it might drag me back to a place where I don't want to be

Like the brave men of old I have to be bold in the search for my new destiny
I leave behind a life of servitude for a new life where I can be free

No magical skills do I bring with me, just a love of the land and the soil
But in my new promised land I will be free and for only myself will I toil

In my bag a handful of seed, a small Axe and a knife that I own
But its with these crude tools in my promised land I'll carve out a place to call home

The ship sails on and old Ireland is gone 'tis now just a faint memory
Soon I'll be there breathing freedoms fresh air in my new land the land of the free
During the Irish potato famine thousands of Irishmen and their families sought a new life in America
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