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Wandering

Sometimes I think that I'm on the right track
But I keep coming back to the same place
The same place where I sought it
Sometimes you'll think there's a smile on my face
But it can't take the place of a free-heart
A me-heart that I've read of
I can hear memories singing through night and through day
But what good are memories? They just seem to get in the way
They get in the way
When it's November, I'll think of July

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