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The
air is whirring with all sorts of sounds,
with voices and noises on merry-go-rounds
that you cannot see, but you'll probably hear.
Wherever you are, be assured one is near. The
passengers change with each new scenery,
we invent for ourselves our own melody:
Neighbors living too loud, babies breathing too quiet.
Engines roaring all day, though not sleeping at night. Morning
chorus of birds, never sung off key.
Favorite records that please a minority.
The sudden and shrill ringing of a phone,
when expected for months, the most beautiful tone. Their
variety ranges from A to Z,
it depends upon us to choose harmony.
If we can be in tune with the music of fate,
we will never be early and never too late.
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