At the top of the hill
It heads on out
Towards the jet-stream
There is an escape lane, with
Police enforcement cameras
Here am I
Beneath a mist, that clings
To the sides of the valley
Where the river flows
Cold and clear and cold
And clear and rippling
Through glacial formations;
Ice-slides that fashioned
Plateaus, terraces, ravines,
And first rate accommodation
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