Yesterday and yesteryear, the spirit in the atmosphere is dry.
Boleas, your axe wears thing, it's dull. The wind won't bite.
Like a vampire without his teeth, a hound dog that won't eat no meat,

you're tired.
Tired of breathing second hand smoke,
it's hard being there all the time.

They say it's everyday getting colder, but may I be a little bit bolder?
It's not.
Children trapped inside a bin, and there's no way in. Not today.
Into a hopeful world of dreaming, missing days,
no way of scheming plans.
Of building, building up our houses weatherproofed if you want.

The sun lights strong.
Stronger now.
Now it's time.
Time to sharpen up.

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