Reminiscence In the Maine woods where the white eats the palette of the world The music stopped The silence came all you hear is the voice of a soul once lost in the busy steps in the city where the baby was born Questions of the future Stories of the past piled up high as oaks in front When I leave will you bury them somewhere on the plains of the white old snow where I can never find where I can never regret Spare me the courage Cast my fear will you, will I.
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