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I am not a writer; I'm just bored. I am becoming more and more bored as the days go on. |
| When will you see the birds in the air? If I profess my love, will she rise from her despair? Who will be the witness to your crime at the fair? How can I confess if she is not there? What does it mean to be but a snare? Shall I walk with her to show that I care? |