The Songs

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He sings his feelings,
so foreign to others.
He touches the wood,
like no other.
How nicely he plays,
Unlike any other.
His sorrow so great,
no comparison to others.
How well he handles,
better than most.
His love,
protruding so greatly with pride unlike anyone.
His face so porcelain,
most handsome of all.
His pain so much,
never seen before.
Forever he will suffer,
a victim of his fate.
But what a fool this man is.
The biggest idiot of all.





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