| My life has been a tapestry
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| Of rich and royal hue
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| An ever lasting vision
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| Of the ever-changing view
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| A wonderous woven magic
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| In bits of blue and gold
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| A tapestry to feel and see,
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| Impossible to hold
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| Once amid the soft and silver sadness in the sky
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| There came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by
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| He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leathered hide
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| And a coat of many colors, yellow green on either side
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| He moved with some uncertainty as if he din’t know
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| Just what he was there for or where he ought to go
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| Once he reached for something golden hanging from a tree
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| And his hand came down empty
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| Soon within my tapestry along the rutted road
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| He sat upon on a river rock and turned into a toad
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| It seem that he had fallen into someone’s wicked spell
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| And I wept to see him suffer, though I didn’t know him well
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| As I watched in sorrow, then suddenly appeared
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| A figure grey and ghostly beneath a flowing beard
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| In time of deepest darkness
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| I’ve seen him dressed in black
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| Now my tapestry’s unravelling;
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| He’s come to take me back (3 times) |