Look. Look. That's the place for us.
High, lonely hills, where the wind and the sound carry, and the ground's as dry as straw in a barn.
That's where we ought to be. That's where we have to get to.
High, lonely hills, where the wind and the sound carry, and the ground's as dry as straw in a barn.
That's where we ought to be. That's where we have to get to.
Of Inle © 2007 H. Kyoht Luterman
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