| Thoughts, sometimes sad and sometimes bright, once conceived won’t go away
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| With time, somehow cruel and volatile, they intensify
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| Somewhere they have reached her, unperceived, so faint, so quiet
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| And she is so fragile, like the vulnerable child that she keeps inside…
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| The paintings that you draw in your world, so easily they grace and they shine
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| A fancy from your childhood returned, but sometimes you just draw it black and
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| white
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| Dreams, sometimes shaded, sometimes light
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| Once they’re forged they fade away
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| At times, with a stroke of wing they fly off eternally…
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| The paintings that you draw in your world
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| So easily they grace and they shine
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| A fancy from your childhood returned
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| But sometimes you just draw it black and white
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| Stillness spreads out slowly, makes itself at home
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| In this house where she thrived, she now feels alone
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| Whispers from a foretime fill her heart with rain
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| Once somebody left here all the grief that never died away |