In the corner of a lonely path, Singer,
whispers to me to wake up to life.
Create a flame of life, even as a young girl.
Do not let my skills go its own way,
drain to waste time in between the wheels.
So I would like to cherish your hands around my neck,
the pedals vibrant calves.
I would like once again to sew
Dress hem, stitched lace long way.
I would not want to be a museum piece,
I am alone to dust in the attic.
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