Dragon Dance

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We are all ghosts. 

We have yet to figure it out.

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Walking around, we think we're never going to leave this place. 

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It's always been ours to do with.

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Where are they all, those who have gone before us?

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They are in the restless murmuring of the grasses and the hiss and wash of the sea.

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We are like unto the dead ourselves. 

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Busy at who knows what.

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There's nothing for it:

we're all for the boneyard.

*