June 3, 2010
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The glass bottles bang against one another
Echoing of the walls of an old cavern
Where once lived a bear cub and her mother
Until they were taken and never returned
Love can seem to be too difficiant
In a cave like this cold place
But the witch doesn't know she's officiant
Behind the uglyness of her soul's face
The world can be a witch's face sometimes
Taking away from the poorer to build lakes of gold
Digging in the supposed untouched mines
Being consumed in their pride of bold
Games are beginning the countdown
Without a single mind knowing the reason
We made cities from historic old towns
Only to be dilluted with our own poison

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