everything has its place and time
i am still searching for mine
one day sitting on a mountain high
i will wonder, my legs dangling, while
ever so slowly time slips by
and my saline tears run dry
where did you run to my time? to set you free, was that a crime?
love has nothing to do with the state of mind
what really makes it stop is the grind
without this grind and whine
it's impossible to shine
through life and get by
otherwise you can only cry
sigh,
and die!
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