distemporaryvice
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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,
Excuse me, I beg your pardon,I'm just here growing in my garden.Like everything, I come from a seed,So please don't call me a pesky weed.
