Who says I have a one-track mind
As if that couldn't be a virtue
And my mind wasn't a grand
Central station to which all
My crowded thoughts return
Some with smiles some with dismay
Some with no luggage at all
And a few dimes in their pocket
Searching the faces each thought
With a mind of its own
I can hardly bear to think of it
Until I catch your eyes
Who says we don't carry
The whole world with us
In our muted cries
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