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Deep chitter chatter, deep the rage

We’ve all grown old, turn the page

The bookstore how it brings it out

As conversation where we doubt

What we had learned in younger years

But this ain’t time to cry tears

And so goes on this search for truth

How they lied when we were youth

And so each day as we arrive

The bookstore helps us come alive

We throw our minds to interchange

As each old man does seek his range

To not hold back, to speak aloud

This is no place for a weak crowd

For strong men only gather here

The one’s not scared hold not fear

In brotherhood we meet to say

How ABBA will we know today

Give us back thee only truth

They stoled from our sweet youth.

From Thoughts Out of My Mind