| I was not put here by anyone in fear
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| I came alone as me
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| Just an idea in a long chain of discovery
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| Surrounded by the same you
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| Sometimes your tide pulls me out to sea
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| And I die in a thrashing and curse
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| Sometimes we are kind
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| More often, I doze
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| So far up the beach that those who try to reach are burnt alive in the searing
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| heat of the desert of my dispassion
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| So far removed, I never hear the water
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| 'cept once or twice a month when I see a mirror
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| And I refuse to believe in some of the things that are said to be here
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| Let alone those that are not
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| I’m trying to change my direction
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| Ours is pathetic in my own, humble, estimation
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| I love the planet
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| The great benign she-wolf
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| The benefactor
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| Spinning gently on towards the red giant four æons hence
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| When all the rose gardens are consumed in the flash-fire of flying time
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| She’ll leave alone to you
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| When you look at me
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| From your own century
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| I may seem to be
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| Strange archeology
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| But when the winds blow
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| From this direction
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| You may sense that I’m
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| In your reflection
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| I think I feel you
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| But I will never know
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| As the swallows leave
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| And the children grow
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| I wanted to live forever
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| The same as you will too
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| I wanted to live forever
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| Same as you will, too
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| I wanted to live forever —
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| And everybody knew
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| When I caught you there
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| In tomorrow’s mirror
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| I thought I’d felt you
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| Jump out of my skin
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| Throwing oil into
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| My blazing memories
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| Filling empty footsteps
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| I was standing in
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| I wanted to live forever
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| The same as you will too
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| I wanted to live forever
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| And everybody knew
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| With the falling rain the northern jungle
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| Hanging droplets on the leaves bombards my brain
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| I hear you across the room
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| And see daffodils spring into bloom
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| You are the mist
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| The frost across my window pane
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| And again
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| She moves her body
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| And her whispers weave
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| And the world spins
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| And tells me that I’ll never want to leave
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| When I look at you
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| From this dark century
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| It must always be
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| With generosity
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| That we both may share
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| The hope in hearing
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| That we’re not just
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| Spirits disappearing |