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Those times will never return,
When my eyes had piles of dreams,
Like a golden butterfly,
I used to chase those dreams,

The fresh greenery is still there,
And the tired colourful wings,
But there's a garden in front of me,
Filled with springs,

Tell the tired wings, and hurting eyes,
Not to see dream anymore,
If this is real, how should i feel,
What should i look for?

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