Rufus ain't dead, He marched at the riverside. On water and bread, He came through those winternights. One day he awoke And he saw all the things they'd made. No, Rufus ain't dead, He told the band to play:
"Oh, in my time, life was very hard. Now, sunshine, shines upon my life."
A forest he reached. There he wrote all the things he'd seen: The sunset and the sea. How grey could turn to green.
A young boy… read more
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