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We prepare long and hard Sweating and in pain We arrive and the the air is dry and stiff I hear no language that I know And acknowledge my detachment from familiarity  We arrive to our new home After a bumpy ride In a run-down, old, moldy bus The
Take me back to the days of a Ghanaian sunset. When hope dwelled above the waters of despair And I gazed into the eyes of a sinking soul. Where trust and fear were honest and pure --
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