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I stopped looking for monsters under the bedWhen I came to see they lived in my headWhoever tells of a monster that hidesNever had one to abide besideOh, full of scorpions is my mind
Robbed of throne and robbed of crown robbed of family and of dignity robbed of school but not of worth appers a father's ghost. Killed or murdered has been answered but the question of revenge has not.
In Bogotá, the first stop on our waywe make inspection of Colomb'n fields.The natives smile, and at our feet they lay