unmoved they stand these branches and trees

while memories are carried over the breeze
our scents meander and curl with the air
our shadows on cobblestone linger there

walk on down our old hunting ground
come upon the people we used to be

the selves we lost and the selves we found

the gods of us mirrored in eternity

the flesh is weak and the walls too long

we search for a place where we belong

waiting for the train we lie awake in bed

to dream the dream that brings back the dead

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