Оригинальный текст
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All my journals are running out
and the ink is running dry.
Is the fire burning out?
The wood pile ain't looking so high.
Would you still be singing along
if I had no words to say?
A gold mine lacking gold is a place that no one goes.
What if my words run out, what if they go away?
Does my heart speak a little less loud,
if I have nothing to say?
