| Forgotten eyes are the ones which we lose
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| Forgotten hands are the ones which we choose
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| To let go of, but it is no less a bruise
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| On the collective arm, keepin' us hangin' on
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| Forgotten dance is the one left at birth
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| Forgotten plants in the fossils of earth
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| And they’ve long passed, but they are no less the dirt
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| Of becoming soil, keepin' us dry and warm
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| The wound has no direction
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| Everybody needs a home and deserves protection, hmm-mm
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| Haul away on any street, no sirens to hear
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| Just trash and soiled needles, clawing the veneer
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| And no crying, but it is no less a tear
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| On the common cheek with which we smile
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| Haul away on any, is it they or is it I?
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| Is it me who is more hollow as I’m quickly passing by?
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| And the poison is killing them, but then so am I, as I turn away
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| The wound has no direction
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| Everybody needs a home and deserves protection, hmm-mm
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| Forgotten tongue is the language of love
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| Forgotten tongue is the language of love
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| Forgotten tongue is the language of love
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| Forgotten tongue |