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Minutes pass into hours Hours into days Though my life pass into twilight I will still dream of the people and places Of my youth I dream of endless summers by the river The smell of fresh water in my hair Laughing voices in the distance A giant stone church It’s steeple standing tall Sentinel of our sleepy borough Fresh cut grass Dirt stains on my clothes A pleasant ache in all my muscles After a day of playing ball A warning siren blows We all rush off to meet it Perilous adventure of my youth Dousing wayward flame Star filled summer nights Chasing tiny hand held lights Mad dashes through the town The smell of funnel cakes Brings smiles for miles around At the annual street fair Minutes pass into hours Hours into days As my life passes into twilight I long for the freedom and the faces Of my youth
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Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
Dawson
Minutes pass into hours Hours into days Though my life pass into twilight I will still dream of the people and places Of my youth I dream of endless summers by the river The smell of fresh water in my hair Laughing voices in the distance A giant stone church It’s steeple standing tall Sentinel of our sleepy borough Fresh cut grass Dirt stains on my clothes A pleasant ache in all my muscles After a day of playing ball A warning siren blows We all rush off to meet it Perilous adventure of my youth Dousing wayward flame Star filled summer nights Chasing tiny hand held lights Mad dashes through the town The smell of funnel cakes Brings smiles for miles around At the annual street fair Minutes pass into hours Hours into days As my life passes into twilight I long for the freedom and the faces Of my youth
david-hall
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Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
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