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There's someone deep inside of me
who I wish that I could be.
In the echoes of moonlight I hear her call,
but when the sun rises I can't hear her at all.

There's a dancer there below the grime.
A poet rests beneath the rhyme.
A child stands in that deep hole,
at least somewhere hides a child's soul.

This wild heart feels hurt and trapped,
and this free spirit would be rapt
to fly out into it's own purity,
so that I could finally see

who I really am.