My great fear from where it comes? And where it goes out, I don't know. It's look like sand in a bosom. It's look like burning hair. My great fear from where it comes And where it goes out, I don't know. May be the north wind brings It with itself And maybe I'm a tree And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate. It's look like sand in a bosom. It's look like burning hair. Maybe I drink it with water Running from my vein. And maybe I'm a tree And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate.
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