You see the Cosmopolitan of this order of life is only controlled by the essence of you.
Happiness was a state of mind I used to guess.
But now with this order of confusion
It turns into something of an ordinary thing
It May not make much since now
But the flowers of April has the rain coming down
In the way of it all you see
For they know that there is some kind of love
Love of humanity
Love of peace
Love of nature
Love of character
The character of heart
The character of love
It's the feeling of the world
In this utopia of selflessness
The mistress of music
Is full of beauty
What doesn't make it
Can just fall away into the way
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