| Follow the current through the city that lies in ruins
|
| Bottle is washed up but the message is missing
|
| Heroes and ghosts, graveyards and buildings
|
| Pay the price of admission
|
| Haunted for years in a hallway of mirrors
|
| Till I step through the window
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| Over the river, coat of feathers sweeping out of view
|
| Weigh the difference, the scales are turned
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| Let conscience be so judged
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| Arrows with strings flung from below
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| Striking and reeling you in
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| Tied to mistakes, left there for days
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| Seeing which side you’re in
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| Lately I feel so removed
|
| Fell back into the ditch I dug
|
| And doing the things I normally do
|
| Heroes and ghosts, graveyards and buildings
|
| Pay the price of admission
|
| Haunted for years in a hallway of mirrors
|
| Till I step through the window
|
| Lately I feel so removed
|
| Doing the things that I do |