I think it is the classicist in me
That is secretly romantic
I feel it is the materialist in me
That used to be a mystic
I will to feel my thinking
A pebble on imagination's grave
That something may revive
Of our old first words
Mamma Papa you and me
I am nostalgic for tomorrow
Where everything is yet to be
And look back eagerly
On all my waiting still to come
Just to have you all again
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