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My dreams, my hopes, my expectations Are spheres of silver glass on a shelf I display them for the world ot see I even let some people hold them. But through carelessness or spite, those people often let my sphers fall and shatter. So I learn to hold some of them closer. The precious ones I keep hidden, But people wander in And pick them up And, through carelessness or spite let my spheres fall And I come to clean up the pieces And cut myself on the Silver Slivers
