And as you stand upon your hill
You look down to see your till
And as you stare and began to cry
You see a forest of yore now bone dry
But as I stare I say to myself
There is more to be said and done
Then staring at what can not be undone
For you who hide within the night
Will not see the shadows created by the light
You shall never see the forest for the trees
Or know why the bird flies into the breeze
 
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