Thank you Mr. Gates
I am drowsy and half awake to the world
I slip softly into the air
Like a flock of birds of a school of minnows.
As a child you were perpetually curious
Form the moment of birth we feel rhythm and sense melody,
What a piece of work is man.
The extras on Wall Street were all dressed in dark clothes, the umbrellas all black.
See the lives there
I look for love,
But there was never an answer.
To everything there is a season
See the mountains kiss high in Heaven
Be noble for you are made of stars
All days are nights till I see thee.
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