She carries a shell in her pocket,
Not a wallet nor a key,
Because the shell reminds her that empty
Is a wonderful place to be.
She has room to become full
As a shell fills with sand,
And as the shell holds sounds of the sea,
She holds sounds of the land.
Not a wallet nor a key,
Because the shell reminds her that empty
Is a wonderful place to be.
She has room to become full
As a shell fills with sand,
And as the shell holds sounds of the sea,
She holds sounds of the land.
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