There is always an anchor
It stays for the inner faith
And all of the roadmaps
Know that it is in place
But the derelict in the sun
Has forgotten to pour his dreams
Time is not a consideration
Of the aim lost on the grin.
But the world has its bless
And the time has its mess
Moods can shape the luxury
Or the aim on the road.
Gratuity often fails.
Never again.
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