Imagine I sulk around the pavement, Dreaming of a day, When all my deepest worries, Will simply disintegrate, The wind will whistle with whispers, Of rose petals in May, Every needy table will be furnished, With a feast on each day, And golden cups and blossomed buttercups, All in a bouquet, And peasants of the land are free to participate, And greed is nonexistent, It vanishes at Hope Bay, The border of reality, Far, far away.
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