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fifty years have come and gone
since that fateful November day
when men of greed and fear of peace
took the chance away

removed all hope of paradise
a world serene and free of hate
divided not by war, but sea
where love directs our fate

we run and hide from truth we fear
denial is the easier pill
we laugh at those who held the truth
whose innocent blood did spill

should the Sun soon set
on our Camelot lost
when evil conquers good
they will find no mention in our history books
of the ****** in the wood
oldie

— The End —