| For Mark it came out of the light
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| And everything went down in freefall
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| What I remember most of all
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| Is when she said that people die
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| Don’t they. |
| Cry don’t they
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| There comes a time when you’re alone with yourself
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| And the cold light and fear, whatever they might say
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| And the girl with the flowers in her hair
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| Said you should have made time for sharing
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| And there she lies your hoped for future
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| Boy you better pray she don’t leave you
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| Figure we have lost our way
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| Before this dark and broken trail was made
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| Before the surface cooled to stone
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| Before the harsh light and the white walls
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| The first struggle for breath
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| And winterbourne no longer flow from the hills
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| The trees are all down, the losers have found
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| That the girl with the flowers in her hair
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| Says there’s nothing else left for giving
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| And there she lies your hoped for future
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| Boy you better pray she don’t leave you
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| I understand there will soon be
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| Man’s first steps on red earth
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| And I hear they’re defining
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| The very nature of our being
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| Is there nothing we can’t do?
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| It’s come to pass at long last
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| There is such strength in numbers
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| And the circle’s turned full circle
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| And God is now made in our image
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| How far have we come down
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| From Dragon Bone Hill
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| When the best case we can make is we
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| Threw it all away? |