| Sometimes you feel so far away,
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| Distance from all the action of the play,
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| Unable to grasp signinficance,
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| Marking the plot with diffident dismay,
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| Standed at centre stage,
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| Scrabbling through your diary for a lost
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| Page: unsure of the dream.
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| Kicking a stone across the beach,
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| Aching for love and comfort out of reach,
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| The way ahead seems to be so bleak,
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| There’s no-one with any friendship left to
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| Speak or show you any relation
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| Between your present and future
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| Situation: lost to the dream.
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| Away, away, away: look to the future day
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| For hope, some form of peace within the
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| Growing storm.
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| I climb through the evening,
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| Alive and believing:
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| In time we shall all know our goals
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| And so finally, home.
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| For now all is secret —
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| Though how could I speak it,
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| Allow me the dream in my eye.
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| I’ve been waiting for such a long time
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| Just to see it at last,
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| All of the hands tightly clasped,
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| All of us pilgrims.
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| Walking in silence down the coast,
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| Merely to journy — here hope is the most;
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| Merely to know there is an end,
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| All of us — lovers, brothers, sisters, friends |