by James Galvin
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When she sleeps
She must be in Senegal somewhere.
The tide goes out from every shore
In the world,
And in the middle of the sea
A mountain made of water
Holds its breath.
When she sleeps
She must be in Senegal somewhere.
The tide goes out from every shore
In the world,
And in the middle of the sea
A mountain made of water
Holds its breath.