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Ghost Writing from the Soul
Ah where does time go?
Where is it when you think you need it so?
Where is the truth in love?
And why does it seem so far from heaven above?

The answers, some I know
But life lived tells me I don’t
The life I live tells me lies
And I cannot be free until they die

What is right in a world of pain?
(Comfort from our sorrows and our shame)
What could be wrong with love so true?
What, besides the timing and the with whom?

--Just a whim there. Ghost Writing from my soul I suppose.