12 thoughts on “What it was”

  1. The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land
    Plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky
    A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers
    But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking
    He’s haunted by the memory of a lost paradise
    In his youth or a dream, he can’t be precise
    He’s chained forever to a world that’s departed
    It’s not enough, it’s not enough

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