It is the nature of golden ages to
pass away,
for harmonies to break, only to be re-sung.
The empty sidewalks on my block used to play
your songs, the sad symphonies of the young
and lovelorn. I reach out. They are still there.
for harmonies to break, only to be re-sung.
The empty sidewalks on my block used to play
your songs, the sad symphonies of the young
and lovelorn. I reach out. They are still there.
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