Gray chilly sky
In a small place
I can feel my heart plummet in
Crows make their annoying sounds
The still cross legged Buddha is really too still
People so foolish
People so tragic
It is not the wealth
It is something else.
In a small place
I can feel my heart plummet in
Crows make their annoying sounds
The still cross legged Buddha is really too still
People so foolish
People so tragic
It is not the wealth
It is something else.
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