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lyrics

The silence sings in the meadow’s arc.
Deep within the dust from our taunting march.
Deep inside the mountain where the voices scream,
and the slumbering crooks cross over the springs.
Critical thinking at age seven or eight.
Reminiscining a life from some old keepsakes.
Lost notes express the son’s of love.
Missing his parrents for what they have done.

credits

from 30 Tunes This September, released September 1, 2015

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DUSTWEST Oregon

Creatively collecting the dust in Oregon.

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