It's An Indian Thing, No One Understands
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It's An Indian Thing, No One Understands
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Narrated by:
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Written by:
t's an Indian thing, no one understands
That the heart is a title to infinite wealth
Around its own possessions, with no art
Wherein the strong mind presses to its heart.
Sometimes it melts in a glowering fire;
Sure as the flame of a feather is bound,
And then a baleful light comes to your brow.
Your bones are drawn by the dusky hue.
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