| Sanctuary is a mill for the grist
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| A moment spent under peace and quiet
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| An open window with the wind blowing
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| Right there, right then, your sanctuary ends
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| Off and on, a life recollected in flashes
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| The way the light hits the undersides of your eyelids
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| Come and gone with the lift and the lower of your lashes
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| Between the iris and the eyelid
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| In your light
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| If if floats away I’ll follow after it
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| Blown in through a window open
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| Cause what am I if not just dust
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| All I’ve done may brown may rust
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| Off and on, a life recollected in flashes
|
| The way the light hits the undersides of your eyelids
|
| Come and gone with the lift and the lower of your lashes
|
| Between the iris and the eyelid
|
| Why not warm inside a while
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| And lay your boots to dry
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| And then there where you wake
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| Where you are will be where you were in the first place
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| All I’ve done may brown may rust
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| If it floats away I’ll follow it
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| If I lose its scent, I’ve still got all it left me with
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| All I’ve done may brown, may rust
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| What am I if not just dust, just dust?
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| In your light
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| In your light
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| On and on, you can’t turn in on yourself
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| On and on, you can’t turn in on yourself |