"In My Cloister" - Thom Fawn Pistol
The television volume is turned down low
In My Cloister
The orange juice is watered down
In My Cloister
My dreams explode in rainbows
But these rainbows are never seen
While the scent of dancing fair maidens
Drifts in from outside, from the park
Games played, love made
But I must toil
In My Cloister
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