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Open handed I tried to live among all people, ideas aloft. |
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Open handed I read the books, I learned the histories, I sang the songs. |
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Until mountains bellowed that my friends are flawed, |
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And not to forget sorrow and all the other Gods, |
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And that my mouth is dirty and my ears were clogged, |
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And of course that I'm flawed also... |
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And then it stopped. |
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Open handedness had me in it's grasp, |
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Running around frantically, |
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Trying to show off my "open hands" |
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"Hope, Unhand me!" |
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I finally yelped: |
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"Let me dwell on bad news, |
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Let me wallow in it" |
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So came long nights and hunkering down. |
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And there stood Cold Mountain with its trickling sound. |
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When I reached the summit, I made no camp |
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But I unrolled my sleeping bag in the stream |
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And let the cold water pour in my ears. |