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The smell of honeysuckle budding  The view of a once lively countryside now abandoned  The sounds of young children laughter that once filled the air Is now the sounds of loneliness and despair
At the crack of dawn We are awaken by the birds morning song They twerp and they tweet They fly around as if they have no feet  Daddy works all day pulling at the wheat He works out in the heat    He works all week so that mama can make something
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