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So innocently they began,
the shadows danced on the wall
as the stars angel flew
and fell like deadened matches to the floor.

Underneath it there is a box where we keep our secrets.
The matches, the cupcakes and windowpanes are all there.

There are footprints in the kitchen where Gregory has been,
and now he�s under my bed with his own treasure chest,
He knows stories untold beneath the dust and cobwebs there.