| This street is named for flowers
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| It’s barren, hot and gray
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| And shadows wheel on iron heels
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| And move along their way
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| The light that soothes me evening
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| Has cut me clean in two
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| But my blood, it runs with stars
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| And they’re fallin' over you
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| Now the bells have stopped their whaling
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| They’ve been railing on deaf ears
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| The towers lean, their faults unseen
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| By us this many years
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| The waiting crowd moves blind and loud
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| Like angry rivers do
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| But silence builds a bridge and reaches
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| Swinging over you
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| It used be the wicked
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| Who surrendered but no more
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| They’ve drawn a line through heart and mind
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| And sold it like a war
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| The poor play host, give up their ghosts
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| Like death is nothing new
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| But I could live forever
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| When I’m dying over you
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| I may learn someday to offer
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| More than what I feel
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| To set aside this wholesome pride
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| And put my shoulder to the wheel
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| To build our truth then raise the roof
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| And not confuse the two
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| But still we stand of rafters and the swing
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| And there’s laughter risen over you |