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Microphones in the Trees

For us who are like bulldozers Sleeping in the sun For us who are like lightning Buried in the mud

27 September 2008

Greet Death

I went to a funeral today. An Irish lady, friend of the family I suppose you'd say. Never really recall meeting her. Had no family in America, but lived here for a long while. Sad reality.

What can you do, I suppose?

It's going to happen eventually. Something we all hate being reminded of, but... My thought.
Posted by mountainmadeofsteam at 22:34

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