| They were moving south.
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| There’d be no surviving another winter here.
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| Two souls, the father and son,
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| Having lost all, looking his way.
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| He held a son’s hand as they stumbled through the woods.
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| The other hand he held out before him.
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| They bore on south in the days and weeks to follow.
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| Solitary and dogged. |
| A raw hill country.
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| Just once at time.
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| You’ve got it, you’ve lost it, you’ve died.
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| Once again let’s see your life line —
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| It’s disappointing and getting worse.
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| But never getting close.
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| But it’s okay — I’m that kid, who’s getting older on his way.
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| So easy to say — but you feel you’ll get it all one day.
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| But I’m okay — It won’t be too hard until be safe.
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| I’ll just get back such the rave day!
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| The right dreams for a man in peril were dreams of peril and all else was the
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| call of languor and of death.
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| From day dreams on the road there was no waking.
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| He plodded on.
|
| But it’s okay — I’m that kid, who’s getting older on his way.
|
| So easy to say — but you feel you’ll get it all one day.
|
| But I’m okay — It won’t be too hard until be safe.
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| I’ll just get back such the rave day! |