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Speak in tongues, of ancient’s past.
Of wicked ways that seem to last.
Let words seep from your wounded soul.
To bend and curve and gain control.
My words you’ll hear, and change will come.
They may not affect all, but they will some.
In shadows my voice will speak to you.
On Icy winds, and sorrows blue.
Sweet the sound, of change and bliss.
You’ll feel from me when I blow my kiss.