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And the Singer Sings His Song
Not after the twilight but during dawn When the world seems lazy to wake up And the sun is nowhere in sight And the birds forget to hum their morning tune.
The singer sings his song As he walks in the cathedral None a weary pilgrim is seen in sight None a single pattern of melodic rhyme.
And he bids farewell to the paved streets The flowers too shy to listen The cars too busy to hear him moan A lonely song as if in pain.
Ahh... He is alone.
July 10 |
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