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| ink on paper |
Tall as his pride he stood, with a face that angels could be jealous of.
His hands were sculpture's heads large and strong.
He knew how to touch me like no ones else has.
Passion, pride, creativity , joy and youth
Was not our fault, was not our fault
Your life will never be the same, my journey will never be the same
Will soon cross paths again , I hope that when that happen we can push our pride aside.
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