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Spring
I can smell the nostalgia in the air
It smells like home
Like crocuses and green, little shoots that shoot up
Up from the ground only to be crushed by his foot
The heavy foot of Mr. Snowfall that just won't
Let up his grip on those poor, little, green shoots
They're still young and fight to maintain their roots
The roots of home
They were planted by the door and lived for the sunshine
But as the gusts of winter came, they let loose new seeds
Seeds that would try and make it next time
They didn't have their momma to nurture and care
They didn't know they rose too early, that winter's still here
Because the sun lies high in the sky
And lies about the warmth of days past by
Looks are always deceiving
And the little, green shoots sit on their heels and wait
For the hills to live with the sound of music and fate
The fate of spring to come at last
And little, green shoots to forget the winter past
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