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A soft gentile breeze strokes my face,
As I wake to the morn with the sun lit arcoss the walls,
A car passes by one by one,
I hear a phone ring softly gently,
Knowing that all that I see,
All that I hear,
Is all a gift from God,

So when the sun light hits yor face,
Be thankful for all you have.

Im _ C r a z e d _ UP
Community Member
Im _  C r a z e d  _ UP
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