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I have walked through the Valley of Death,
Where roses lay with a thousand thorns,
And ebony streams cascade to nowhere.
A shack my lonely heart called home.
In such a place where no fruit grows,
And knowledge is scarcely seen.
A place where I learned of better,
And a place I was bound to leave.
Still those thorns may graze my soul,
And still more so those rivers flow.
But I have left, and seen much better.
For I have left, and braved that weather.
Only with help was I able to go,
A friend of friends, I once called foe.
Now held in my heart far above others,
When bad storms come, we’ll brave together.