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my son is dead and i am going blind
stay no more
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
roses and gold
when the hours of day are numbered
like eagles on up high
i fill this cup
is there anybody there
who will be naming the wind
when freedom from her mountain height
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
my sorrow, when she's here with me

 



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