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My eyes on that door, the silent lane beckons
My fingers scrape that door
Nobody opens it any more
My eyes brimming, the silent lane beckons
Memories flow; how many have walked these old streets
And how many do not any more?
From the inner world of my own inner world
Come the answers of despair
Come the images of you there
Sunlight and silence, people pass me by
In the cavern of the past, some of this will remain
The present is now free from pain. |
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