| She’s invoking the sign of the sickle moon
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| Cut my mammal brain in two
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| I admire the power at her command
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| All snakes under the shovel head
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| An age of grey matter over mind
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| Now she’s clothed in the sun
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| With the moon at her feet
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| She hates the world that’s failed to see
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| Making time we abandon our reserve
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| Pretend she is an orb weaver
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| Relics found in the dust of the aftermath
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| Some kinds of things you cut in half
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| Relics found in the dust of the aftermath
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| Some kinds of pills you cut in half
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| See you in the storm shelter counting down
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| Cover my eyes with you, black out
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| See you in the storm shelter counting down
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| Cover my eyes with you, black out
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| Either tied to the tracks
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| Or burned at the stake
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| Our coins could not derail the train
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| When it feels like we’ve walked
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| Through a thousand doors
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| Been peeling ourselves off the floor |