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Iram, Lost Iram Lost, alone, and wandered scars Scrutinizing time Thunders rise and soon take flight Tinted skies with essence sighs  
My grandpa was a coal miner in 1923 living in a land eroded to dust, sweating until black paste stained his face
The sliver of your soul That I knew so wholly Was forged below, But ever so softly. And fairly maid, I cannot help but steal your love, Or for your life, 
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