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Eisteddfodd

Dit is een lied voor de mensen die zorgen,
dat morgen de mensen al dood zullen zijn,

My face in the rain
I walk all alone
It's Sunday time is slow
I'm happy that is all I know

I would like to write a song
That is so vibrant and so intimate
That the earth would adopt it
As if it had sprung like the stream

We were all uprooted
The earth was stolen from beneath our feet
We became a Diaspora
An unnamed nation of bastards

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