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Copyright © 1992 Goh Ser Chong

Will it ever end,
Behind my every smile,
there’s a sorrowful frown,
Leaving the pale grey town,
To roam the empty streets,
Till the horizon meets,
Somewhere, somehow will it ever end,
Or do we have to keep on pretend,
Even though the music has died,
It will be the days I remember,
the endless number on the rolling die.

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