4. where art is born

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Isn't it always starry and mesmerising?
Our skies, the sky we shall see both and the grounds we shall stand on together at the same time.

When my love flew I ran like water
where was I headed ?
The time our worlds collided, It didn't make sense to me, where have my blue and grey gone to?

Or perhaps it might have never been there, I was never there.

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