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The song.  Unaffected. Opens like spring.  Formed from vines grasping at the answer to words.  Rhythms without explanations.  A sense of beauty, full of individual reason.  A flag of intention.  A banner to gather voices rising for the occasion. Full verses.  Empty hearts. A recipe of melancholy. Winds ebb in favor of voices.  Hands raised.  … More STAGE LEFT