Lowland Hum
eden pt two
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I am a trumpet barely sounding, breaking back beats beside fountains,
as the notes roll into town squares where the music moves the mountains.
When the trumpet and train whistle, sing harmony with me,
Iâll march bravely through all my darkest memories.
Iâll leave them in the dust. No inkling will remain.
Iâll leave them in the dust. Theyâll rot in forgotten graves.