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that little boy inside
somewhere a small boy will pray
to be set free if he may
from the battles forced to play
and from sins for which he’ll pay
maybe he will try to run
as if tomorrows ne’er come
peer into the setting sun
while another day is done
sleep in silence and alone
on a pillow made of stone
dreams have long since been outgrown
for he’s learned life’s just on loan
hunger claims a heavy price
going through all these things twice
hinged upon the rolling dice
loneliness must now suffice
on the start of my new day
somewhere a small boy will pray . . .
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