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A strange little piece from an old attempt at song writing

I look through the door to the inner space,

where things are not always what they seem

I see dark deeds and cool spring water

ideas fly with raven wings

the grass breeds tiny green monsters

that sing with whispering sighs

trees bear fruit of vision

seen only with burned out eyes

The vision seems much more likely

with reason left behind

Release of true emotion

Salvation of the mind

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