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Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Friday, November 10, 2006

What People Do for Money?

Okay, this gets filed under the "Weird Professions that I have to use in a story," there are professional Rock, Paper, Scissors players. Put those up there with professional skateboarders (which I can kind of understand), professional fast eaters, and professional video game players. If people are getting money for that, just how hard can professional writing be? Oh, yeah, never mind.

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