The Bricklayer Once I met a bricklayer on a sunny afternoon I had only just surfaced from my deep slumber underneath the moon I asked him why he was building such a wall But he did not respond and I wondered if he’d heard me at all He worked until the sun dipped low to touch the skyline Building his wall higher, I’d never seen such a design “Sir,” I called, but he was behind the wall “Sir,” I called again, but the wall was far too tall And then came a faint sound I barely heard “This is what you wanted, what you preferred!” But I looked at the wall looming above A wall keeping everything out
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