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Water time flows

Fast quards the cold

Runs lowly and lowly down

Lays on the dew drops

Life runs with stones on ones shoulder

Its goal is fast hidden

What's that sky-line

What's in the distance?

Only a million of souls

The wind is playing with

During the penetrating whistle of woods

What's that sky-line?

Only the sweet smell of hidden pine

That your creature waits for

The cruel end of its glory