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From a Cracked Pot

O be careful little hands what you do; O be careful little hands what you do; There's a Father up above; And He's looking down in love; So, be careful little hands what you do.
The soldier looked at his hands, rough and callused from years of war. He wondered how much blood these hands had spilled in the name of peace. But the idea of peace was capricious at best; just when it seemed within reach another uprising began. He was so very tired of war and blood. He longed for his homeland and the quiet havens ...


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