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New Slate | ||
| Every day's a brand new slate Waiting for my chalk to write. I'll write boldly, not be late, In a hand that's true and bright. I will write whate'er I see And of things beyond my view. I may speak of mystery And of things forever new. Yet I do not write alone. God is speaking through my voice. I am not a senseless clone. I express my golden choice. | ||
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