Foreign Forest
Jane Duboc
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We're in the foreign forest
Where all the paths divide
Oh, how to look at trees
When plants and flowers
Are altered by the breeze
A faint perfume
The sound of fountains
We're half awake in our sleep
We hold our hands
Together, quiet and mute
Feeling the breath of dawn on us
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Without hope or desire
We feel alive inside
Oh, how to want to leave
When all the paths will only
Get out of here