5 Minutes Late5 minutes late I lock my door And make my way outside5 Minutes Late
Strap on my blades Be there sun Or be there rain And down the hills I glide
Through Autumn leaves that clothe the streets So warped from the roots
Of trees who in spring come to life And bless us with their fruit
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A cynic only sees beauty in the beautiful
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A cynic only sees beauty in the beautiful
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