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I am of a dying breed A son of thunder Born from the wind
I am of the lost brotherhood The one that never was
I am of a broken dream My wings slowly bleeding On a floor of clouds
Cry not for me If winter is touched my hair For he left tears of wisdom On my face
Cry not for me If I shall find my grave On the road I crave
Cry not for me If I’m not of age As my soul is leaving Attached to a warm bullet
For I haven’t found Brothers to sing with me The songs I hear As I ride alone On the roads to hell
Mike mmillmore@b2b2c.ca
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