| I dreamed up the maps
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| Give me charcoal and the paper now
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| We invent paths they cannot see
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| And they’re too scared t' walk
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| Between my hands rests fifty-two plain old playing cards
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| And I trapped God somewhere between
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| The trump and the kind of hearts
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| Joni Mitchell said «We are stardust
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| We are golden, we are all the same»
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| Blood paints the story of our love
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| Across the bathroom floor towards the drain
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| Funny how everything just piles up, till one day
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| You can’t believe how far you came
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| I’m made of mountains, made of metal
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| Made of whiskey, and waves!
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| You won’t believe your own breath
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| When the bold words finally escape your mouth
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| Keep your secrets hidden
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| Till yer certain of just what we’ve found
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| Yeah, they bleed just like us
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| But our calling is what shapes us now
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| Won’t be held back, won’t be tied up
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| Won’t be pinned down (x4)
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| Won’t be held back
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| Won’t be — not now!
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| It came to me, as strange as it seems
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| From a simple deck of cards laid ace to kings
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| With my fingernail slipped under King Charlemagne
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| I flipped the edge and traced the grain
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| And watched it fall like a breaking wave
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| The ace of spades was last to splash
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| Trump to suicide kings, they all turned Bicycle backs
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| I stared at the pattern, a pair of seraphim flashed
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| And it just fit, elegant, «aww shit!». |
| That’s that
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| Its strange how you can waste away pained with one thing
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| The watchmaker breaks sweat, he can’t tame a dumb spring
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| Then one day its as plain as the nose above your smug grin
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| Like, «look what the cat dragged in!»
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| Woke from a dream, hands heavy in cold sweat
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| Jumped from the bed, snatched the charcoal quick
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| Sketching frantically upon the bedroom brick
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| It came together and it fit like this:
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| «Give me a lever and a place to stand, I’ll move the world»
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| You think you’re clever, but you never, seen how it really works |