| There’s a gold shadow seeping through the door
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| There’s a cold sparrow lying still upon the floor
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| Dead and true as lipstick
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| Slow as the speed of skin
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| There’s a gold, gold shadow growing from within
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| There’s a bent willow in the moonlight painted blue
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| There’s a spent window silhouetting you
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| Deep and true as whiskey
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| Soft and sure as lies
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| There’s a bent, bent willow reflecting in your eyes
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| But now there’s a girl out in a boat
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| Her arms are outstretched and she’s barely afloat
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| There’s a man on the shore, a rope in his hands
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| It’s tied to the boat, and he’s pulling as hard as he can
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| Not to bring her to him, but to pull the whole shore
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| And the whole world with it to her open door
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| All his voices are her
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| All his voices are her
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| Has he been here before?
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| Nobody’s sure
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| There’s a silver distance, a luminescent glimpse
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| There’s a river of resistance, dried to cracks upon your lips
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| Brittle as believing
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| Sticky as betrayal
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| There’s a silver distance opening up like a trail
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| There was a time before all the leaves
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| Covered the beauty of Adam &Eve
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| And they were blind, and they were free
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| To be whatever they wanted to be
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| But now they are just a prayer in a song
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| And he is so sorry for all that went wrong
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| All his voices are her
|
| All his voices are her
|
| Has he been here before?
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| Has he been here before? |