| When I die, I will see the lining of the world
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| The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset
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| The true meaning, ready to be decoded
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| What never added up will add up
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| What was incomprehensible will be comprehended
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| And if there is no lining to the world?
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| If a thrush on a branch is not a sign
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| But just a thrush on the branch? |
| If night and day
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| Make no sense following each other?
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| And on this earth there is nothing except this earth?
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| Even if that is so, there will remain
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| A word wakened by lips that perish
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| A tireless messenger who runs and runs
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| Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies
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| And calls out, protests, screams |