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𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞’𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞,
𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.
𝐀 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞,
𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐞,
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞.
𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝,
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝.

𝐀 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧,
𝐀 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧.
𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞,
𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞,
𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫.
𝐀 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞,
𝐀 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲.

𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞,
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.
𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐞,
𝐀𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲.

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