Good Times

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I think that a song moves back the waves,

while I comb the rivers of love.

Parted over in the east yester- years and we forgive.

I think that a song, brings me to my lavender -cedar memories and I moan, lon-ng

and I moan lon-ng.

A bridge though  made of energy.

I think that a song, brings me -salted fire and I smoke it

holding my lungs in place.

I think that a song is more than spiritual notes- rather my fluid,

I am the song in the east,

I am the song of a river’s love.

I am the song of songs – time I start singing to me….

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