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A Closer Look
April 24, 2011
Just over the hill by the willow tree is where my story starts,
Where the crickets chirp and the birds sing an impossible
Broken record,
The distant little creek that stays the same,
Throw pebbles and it never moves, no horse sense, it seems,
Isolated, it should be calm, but not with the fishes like it is,
Never changes and cold inside, I would not count on your life
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