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Let me In

Money is their soul’s religion
I need some cream
I need some green
Those dollar dreams
by any means
but they are slaves
digging graves
and we are only free
if collectively
all our eyes can see.

Filed under: Poetry

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New Leaves on the Old Trees is a collection of poetry about love, war, death, rebirth, healing and transformation. Please feel free to leave any comments or questions. (under construction - thanks for following/liking in interim phase)

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