| What happened to the trees my father planted?
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| The red tops in the back yard
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| Could they be shoring up the delta somewhere?
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| In a landfill, or a stream?
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| Things can never be the same as they once were
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| The gates go up, the trees come down
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| That timeless feeling of not understanding
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| Furniture’s been moved around
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| Or something hidden in past lives of children
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| Time has made ghosts of us all
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| My little sister’s filthy handprint still there
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| Hidden on the closet wall
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| Old pieces of my life are falling away
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| Another piece of me gone |