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Dec 2014
I thought all of life existed in a smoky room
Confident men raising spotless claret glasses
Matches firing their dreams and memories
Until the last cigar reminds how time passes
And now where life has taken us
Is the refuge of sidewalks groaning under the masses
We long for those days of fearless bravado
While we wonder if meaning is buried under the ashes
Mark Lecuona
Written by
Mark Lecuona
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