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Paul Spring
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Clouds
Sometimes they get the best of me
These gray masses of clouds
That are marching
Across
What a little sky we have left
One little light
And I let them into my faults
To provoke and control
But why, when you sit by my side
With the same view
And ask, with a smile
How do they move so slowly?
Isn't if funny
The way the stumble through the light
And fall apart?
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