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I cannot live from birth to death
From day to day and year to year
Where no one knows, or thinks or cares
That I am really here
I must leave footprints where I’ve trod
Deep and crisp and clean and clear
To show a man, his wife, his dog
That I am really here
I have a voice and words to say
Precious views, opinions dear
Like seeds cast on the wind to say
That I am really here
I choose my words and weave my world
Secrets spill to lure you near
Drama drawn from dull days just to say
That I am really here
I deal out details, pictures post
Of people, places quaint and queer
My endless commentary that says
That I am really here
I write the words you want to read
My life, to you, to best appear
So scrubbed and speckless who’s to tell
That I am really here?
I know The Father looks at me
He reads my heart leaves nought unclear
His whispers stir my soul to know
That I am really here
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