on the hill lies the roundabout
I climb the hill in an old car
Winding around the verge
looking for something eyes can't see
no noses smell
I crossed the terrace
where the caves meet
the stream flowing out
purified people didn't mind getting wet in the cold water
it must have been blessed
and they celebrated letting a limb slide in
My eyes searched the small creek bed for gold
The treasure i sought misplaced in my heart
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