| Standing on the years crooked as a loon
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| Just beyond the rusted metal gates
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| I feel that the fallen like a stone
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| From the good grace of the Sun
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| I believe I have seen two eyes
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| hanging in the gutted dusk for a thousand miles
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| Upon a path of ruin that pines and calls
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| for the snapping hooves of the dawn
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| So if not strange the way we fade?
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| From each others thoughts
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| Reduced to orphaned memories
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| that I let stray too far…
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| Is if not strange that we once loved?
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| but let of slip away
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| Like the sun that falls into the sea
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| It hisses down and gone is the day
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| While bluebirds sing
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| and Dogwood leaves call the rain
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| you don’t have to run from the cold
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| but you can never go home…
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| Did you fall from the sky of fiery sun?
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| Your muscles torn and jelly worn
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| as you clawed wildly at the wind
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| I held the wings of a sound so clear
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| of a dream I barely can’t recall
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| Then dipped the wing and mute the strings
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| that were ringing of the greatest song
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| Is it not strange that we were one
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| But let a mountain fall
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| Upon the cold and the unforgiving waves
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| into the deep the pieces plunge
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| Is it not strange the way we fade
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| like stones that skip and sink
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| Like youth that creeps into the grey
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| the hush of dust and gone is the age
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| While bluebirds sing
|
| and Dogwood leaves call the rain
|
| you don’t have to run from the cold
|
| But you can never go home. |