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Vision in history. 


The winds scattered snow, cover the world in white. My flight in the old Camry with no sight.

Skid to the left, skid to the right.

Wonder how am I going to make it home tonight? The kids are sleeping tights

One’s snoring and the other’s in twilight

Seeing them whatever the world’s unkind

They make it seems – nice, and alright. Working two jobs to pay for milk and supplies.

Feeding them, loving them, until they know how to fly.

Then if I love them, I must set them free

To tour the world and sight they must see Hope one day they would remember me.

Visiting me in the old folks home, telling me stories.

So I can relive those memories.

Because life is nothing but a vision in history.

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