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And
in
the
world
a
heart
of
darkness,
a
firezone,
where
poets
speak
their
hearts
then
bleed
for
it.
Jara
sang,
his
song
a
weapon,
in
the
hands
of
love.
You
know
his
blood
still
cries
from
the
ground.
It
runs
like
a
river
to
the
sea.
We
run
like
a
river
runs
to
the
sea.
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