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All over the U.S.
Television's confess,
Beyond belief,
New Yorker's grief.
Countenance steeled,
There were those who kneeled,
Some gathered the dust,
Empty bottle holds, it must.
I know how this is told,
Something, anything to hold.
They took their loved one away,
Only the dust will stay.
On that sacred ground,
Only memories found,
Hands holding their own,
All but spirit blown.
There were more than 2000.
I weep too for this band. |
