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Technicolor world  vehicles racing faster  streaks of bright colors    flowers on the side  showing their smiling faces  through the thick asphalt    hurried people walk 
the echo of strings from the busy street it rings as rosiny dust fills the air a melody, calm, slow, almost still a lone pigeon stops to stare    
Peace my child, peace within. I skipped a rock the ripples spin. I seek the truth I threw the stone, but still I ponder Where did it go? Peace within.  Look at the lake
I cannot stand still. I could not stop if I peased to. I'm busy, busy, busy. A little happy bee. Musical. Soccer. Canoeing. Scouts. Chior. Texting, facebook, instagram, snaps. Gee, no time free?
You're too busy for her She's too busy for you He doesn't have enough time You can't make it today
They said junior year was the most difficult Well they were surely wrong Yes the spring of SAT's and college visits were strenuous But senior year was strong   My first priority was cross country
This busy world Frenetic ants Scurry to and fro; Their loads of burden
Hello. How are you? That's nice. Me? How am I? Oh. Oh no. You don't want that answer. Why? You sure you wanna know? Remember, you did this to yourself.
As I wake up I have my towel in hand Brushing my teeth Putting on clothes To go   To school I have a test today Papers due tomorrow I'll study after I go  
Busy sidewalks, crowds of people— rush rush rush.   No time, no time, will not stop hesitate—   Too busy busy busy too much effort to see difficulty.  
crashing and bashingillegally found, stolen, and lostall in one single, setted dayremaining remainders remind us of researchre-inventing, re-intended to re-bring us all back home
Time passes by Is it already October? The school year goes on and on And I'm trying not to get left behind.   I work hard to finish the work, to have time for games and floor bonding.
What a busy atmosphere Rushing, rustling, raging streets Crazy, crowded, chaotic people Always seeing each other Never knowing one another   She would walk past him on the way to work
Pure understanding of such succession of line, Never fearing what could be done without time, Worrying about time and place, Wiping off the sad disgrace, All I do is just continue to stride for what could be mine.
Going Cyclic Spinning Weaving Dying Spewing Churning Turning Weeping Leaving Sleeping Crying Weeping Crazy.
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