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Macchu Picchu | ||
| Giant stones, so firm in place! Of your maker there's no trace. You were set in place to last, Bearing tidings of a past When the Incas, tall and grand, Were the masters of the land. Every rock was cut with care, Firmly placed with fervent prayer That the spirits would abide In this temple built with pride. May we also builders be, Cut to fit our destiny. | ||
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