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In pencil lines of ages past,
Idea maps were being drawn
Over the world.

Story time in your wildest mind.
What a wonderful.
Magic animal.

Mother to child.
Singing a long song.

Set sail, seaworthy vessels.
Fill your holds with the sounds
Of daughters and sons
Wagging their tongues.

Written down in ink so clear,
Voices of a yesteryear.
Dreams are whispered in an ear.

Writer/s: Deerhoof