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Waxwing

Waxwing

What These Hands Have Grown

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Оригинален текст

Blessed am I to sit here today
Taking this time to carve out a place
Where I may find some rest and give others solace
To remind and remember, what cant be bought with dollars
From your pockets. Not everything.
Its something I should remember.
Treasure It its all you own
Treasure It its all thats your own
Food costs money and kids gotta eat something
If a farmers work is honest the contribution wont be unnoticed.
I wish I were a Farmer.
To be satisfied with what these hands have grown
No food of mine sits in the bellies of others
Instead this strange secret twisting which each only knows.

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