The breeze might thrill you
But the storm which deal with you
Don't pour the seed upon the field
The seed of weed which grow in greed
Ignore the bugs which rob the grass
Vanished and brushed among the dust
The grain of pain has gone at last
Then the earth will birth a flower in vase
There is no regret can buy the past
Like never a sun appears at night
Put your believe to the One you can thrust
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