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      I see the remnants of our past Were we thereż I see no light, no hope, we fall Are we hereż We see our aspirations fail I feel the winters growing cold No sign, no light, our lives are growing old I feel the winters growing cold No sign, no light, no hope, growing cold The dove of dreams is flying overhead Her wings are spreading softly signs of dread So cold inside the earthly bounds below Singing out her somber tales of woe Her sorrow covers me The somber tales of old The sorrow covers me Tis somber tales of woe
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