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Arthur Osborne - Fantastic Things

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Fantastic Things Let's say fantastic things, Let's say that pigs have wings; But never let us say This living lump of clay, This song the Singer sings,

is author of the play. The play's an accident, Nobody wrote it; It just happened so, No use to quote it - So they say. You just happen to be Because X met Y; For awhile you are

free To reason why, And then you die -- So they say. But who is that ME in you? Turn and look steadily. Who is it that asks who? Thoughts skip about readily; Stop them a bit, Ask who is it Abides when they quit. Who are you?

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