| Well the science
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| That’s put us into power
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| Is just daydreams
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| And pale imitation
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| And we can gather the remains and clean the fancy knives
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| We’ll throw away the bones and lick our fingers dry
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| As the mountains and the forests crumble to the ground
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| And the ashes and the embers linger all around
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| It’s better not to be here when the fire starts
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| With lions all around you with their beating hearts
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| Pounding blood into their veins so they can chase you down
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| As the mountains and the forests crumble to the ground
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| Will you cry
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| When nobody would answer?
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| Now they’re gone
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| And left nothing behind
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| When the lights begin to flicker and the candles die
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| When the fireplace is empty and our bodies lie
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| In the bedroom by the staircase with the painted walls
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| We can dream of all the ghosts that roam these shadowed halls
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| On the mattress we can listen through the haunted sounds
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| In the attic where the footsteps that go all around
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| We can sleep until the sunrise meets our tired eyes
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| And the lights will start to flicker while the candles die |