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Swing | ||
| Pump your legs upon the swing, Climbing higher to the sky. You will witness everything, Seeing all the world pass by. Feel the breeze upon your face. Back and forth you swiftly go. You have conquered time and space. There is nothing you don't know. But at last you, too, will tire, Slowly coming to a stop. One cannot go ever higher. Now it's time to reap the crop. | ||
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