The hills are blue on the horizon and the clouds are gray.
The moon rises round and white.
I’m happy to be going home, but I’m so tired and the hour is so late.
Far behind me, my friends are out there in the dark
on other roads with other friends.
I hope to see them again.
But not as they once were but as they are
(and I won’t be in a hurry, and they won’t be too late).
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