At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
If it wasn__ for all those silver wings spread out to help you on your journey, you would__ been dead or someplace screamin_ in a nut house a long time ago.
The River of Winged Dreams
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If it wasn__ for all those silver wings spread out to help you on your journey, you would__ been dead or someplace screamin_ in a nut house a long time ago.
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