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Alone
Just like him to wander off in silence
Little me slowly searching for his hand
To réalize his love was false and dense
My little tears soaked up in Coney's sand
Any sign of the ones you used to love
I was too young to understand your ways
To grasp that you would not search Him above
Modestly would be the end of your days
My father's day cards are collecting dust
And I'm searching for no one to call Dad
Trying to forget that day in August
And to remember the good we once had
My dim eyes close and I seem to be pleased,
But on the inside, my heart is diseased.
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