| What has become of all of us, all ceilings, all skies
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| Is that, the stars can swim a thousand dark miles
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| Before they ever see the floor again
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| With their backs against the wall on these last days
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| But then, we knew that would happen anyway
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| You drop that pitch-black pall
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| Over us, one and all, again
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| To propel your national machines
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| Giving us all the disease, but not the vaccine
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| A thousand tiny lives
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| Disappear into the black stretch
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| I guess I thought I’d feel something but I didn’t
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| But I didn’t, yes, that’s a myth
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| With their backs against the wall on these last days
|
| But then, we knew that would happen anyway
|
| You drop that pitch-black pall
|
| Over us, one and all, again
|
| To propel your national machines
|
| Giving us all the disease, but not the vaccine
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| I would give anything
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| For a cool glass of water
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| Without this poisonous oil
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| No
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| It’s never going to be good enough
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| There’s no air anywhere
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| It’s all money now
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| Wouldn’t you do the same? |