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Feb 2014
I met a man,
He spoke his name.
I cant recall,
Tell me again.

He spoke it loud,
He spoke it clear.
"Why don't you go clean out your ears?"

My mind is clouded,
Skies are grey.
Why do I feel
This way each day?

We've lived a thousand lives before,
And we're doomed to live a thousand more.

Give up on Love,
Give up on Lust.
Even statues always Rust.
Arthur Grant
Written by
Arthur Grant  Northern California
(Northern California)   
221
 
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