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Promised Land
May 18, 2009
Sitting, staring into space,
A line of drool runs down my face
Eyes closed tight, head in the sky,
Far away I want to fly
To the sun, to the moon
on the whispers of the noon
Fly me away, Mr. Man
To the parking lot, my promised land
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I happened to be thinking at the time. I get pretty side tracked.