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Veil of Thorns
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Draw In, Wind Down
Wheels on wet road greet my waking eyes
Halted by the touch of memory
I smell the rain and hear its song
This bed will not let go of me
Nor the thirsty, feverish day get off me
Draw in, wind down
Draw in, wind down
I still feel the touch of the nocturnal breeze
The seeds are flung at the remains; reasons found
Draw in, wind down
Draw in, wind down
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