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The cut and grind of cropped pathways lead through the itching dust of a life of many names where money is seed. pooling floods upon earthy cradles beneath the static air of destructive power gathering over loan banks of hope, to sift silver from the dust upon an endless abyss of field, to inherit the dirt and work to life's end. Grasping always for straws to keep afloat upon the flat horizon and wait feverishly for another rain cloud... To catch the dribble of pennies....each stamped with a date.......