Through the beige isle, veins of green holler aloud
Lush foliages of maple, yet I pick upon a rosebud
Mists of sentiment brabble, springing whistles of reminiscing
From the floor, they call out to me, unrelenting
I kept at it, pacing across the vast meadow
Lights begin to dim, even so, I shall escape under the nightly glow
Along the paths,...
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