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At a point in your life god is gonna be a word No different than mustard, couch, bagel At a point in your life god is No longer gonna be a word No different than love mercy justice prayer
I am a survivor, I have been bullied, Calling myself a victim wouldn’t fit, Because the person who hurt me got hurt more in the end.   I am an artist,
1. Home. That is where the heart is. So I hear.   The footprints of my people Long lost on the winds of time.
They have been sleeping for countless years. They live to teach they live to educate Through the attentive doors come the mad men. To throw their knowledge into the fiery den,
Abriet macht frie the gate had said, those who entered new they were dead. Yellow stars on their shirts, made adults and children hurt. Everything that took place, the mass killing
Standing in a row See revulsion in their eyes Together we stand All wishing, hoping, praying To be anywhere but here
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