borders
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My country is the beautiful sun
My country is not the hard winter
My country is an often green Eden
Where my mind is walking, on common grounds,
People know me, they hear my sounds,
Taking part in parcels, my eyes see farther,
Asking whit you know, the path gets darker,
For one and all, so the sayings go,
These borders that divide us define our opportunities.
Developing surrounds the developed.
If it wasn't for these separations, could we all have equal opportunities?
