| There will be no end soon
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| If I’ve seen things right that have come
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| People will be scared, they never will see anything
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| Meanwhile all of my friends have been struck dumb
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| How can no final thing come
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| When our faces are pulled from us
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| How can someone blame who they refuse to name
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| For pulling other people down with them
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| Some have risen, they are lucky
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| To have their fall delayed by people
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| What they have is threaded, grafted and plotted
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| Played out and bad
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| Some have made mistakes for us
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| Waiting by the door for us
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| We told them to go ahead, their support is just a weight
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| Better to sever the weighted limb
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| Where is it hanging tonight?
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| It is not looming to propel us along
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| We move ourselves to it, one year to sit in dirt
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| One cycle with which to comment upon the dirt |