For doors open, yet you don't see them
Only looking back at heavily watered grass
Wishing that in it lies flowered seeds
That break from the thrashed soil, with
Toiling arms not rested
And all of which falls back to a single voice.
The voice of reason resonating in a chamber.
Only looking back at heavily watered grass
Wishing that in it lies flowered seeds
That break from the thrashed soil, with
Toiling arms not rested
And all of which falls back to a single voice.
The voice of reason resonating in a chamber.
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