| A winters day, in a deep and dark December
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| I am alone, gazing from my window into the streets below
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| On a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow
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| I am a rock, I am an island
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| Don’t talk of love, well I’ve heard the word before
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| It is sleeping in my memory
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| I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died
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| If I never loved I never would have cried
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| I am a rock, I am an island
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| I have my books and my poetry to content me I am sheilded in my armor
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| Deep within my room, safe within my womb
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| I touch noone and noone touches me I am a rock, I am an island
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| And a rock feels no pain
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| And an island never cries |