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you wander the desert but you're not sure if you're wise
because there are no leading stars left in the sky
the gifts you could bring, abandoned like hope
sand washes clean, glassy eyes cope

still can't find my way from here

i hope that this concourse informs me where to go
i think i've got time but how do i know?
tradition aborts you and justice fails every time
culture imported, residence is not crime