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The land is bare,
The town is flat,
The people don’t care,
The men are fat,
 
The trees stand naked,
The corn won’t grow,
The kids are all faded,
The adults don’t know,
 
The sun is burning bright,
The land is white with snow,
People walk in numbers,
While winter’s winds blow,
 
The lonely follow the light,
The light follows the strong,
The strong follow the wrong,
The wrong follow the drum,
That beats to the few,
Who have more courage,
Than the two who doomed,
the garden,
And all we knew,
 
I try to sweep up words,
With the cosmic blue broom,
While a sandstorm is coming,
And doubting is the moon,
 
But the town is bare,
And the men are fat,
Why should I care,
In a world such as that?
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