rolling hills of ghosts,
Wrap around orange towers,
the great Golden Gate.
Rolling hills of ghosts,
Pass through our bodies.
The great Golden Gate,
Steals tourists' attention.
Pass through our bodies,
Never ending fog also,
Steals tourists attention,
coldness creeping on.
Never ending fog,
Let up your wrath.
Coldness creeping on,
The lights come out now.
Let up your wrath,
lay your blanket low.
The light come out now,
Building tops poke the sky.
Lay your blanket low,
So clouds may rest on water.
Building tops poker the sky,
Nighttime remedies.
Michael! Gotta label your posts so people can find them. Do it when posting in the box below the text. Start typing your name and it'll come up. Separate labels by commas. Thanks, Tony
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