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Dear Believer

Dear believer, come sing us a song like we sang upon, younger days

when the world was good and heavy on our shoulders as a child

‘fore we let it all go to waste.

Paradise, has its hunter  call me blind, call me fool, I don’t mind chasing thunder

I say reaching for Heaven is what I’m on earth to do.

Maybe reaching for Heaven is what I’m on earth to do.

– Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

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