Tis strange how the wind
That blows through, the desert
and the seas
Never rests on land
On and on it blows
It can wreck the roofs of the lowly
Keep the kites of the child aloft
Rock the vagabond to sleep
The wind of the tongues swirl
Can pass by empty
And as it passes
To some it is a song
To some a grunt
Often its just a wind.
So hoist your kites
Blow your trumpets
Or just sob in your bed
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