| A father said to his son
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| «you should be waking up. |
| Your salvation is here, your eyes will open up
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| All the times that I said you wouldn’t understand, I meant them»
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| Wait forever to see the child locked inside everybody is free there is no need
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| to hide
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| To deceive is to flee from the opened eye
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| So just turn around to face the pale sun
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| Sweeped across the silent morning
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| Shades of grey they won’t wait for no one
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| So just turn around to face the pale sun
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| «to boast the sudden conquest of a foreign land to snuff the silver wasp
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| To waste the gifts of man and all the things that I said you didn’t understand.
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| «said sir hexagram
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| So the son set out to find the twisting fan
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| Lifted from the bones lifted from the sand
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| Perched upon a gate he waits with bird in hand
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| So just turn around to face the pale sun
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| Sweeped across the silent morning
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| Shades of grey they won’t wait for no one
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| So just turn around to face the pale sun
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| Cause we’ve heard rumors of new worlds forming
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| But we, place our selves with in the plot of the free and clearer mind where
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| the light is caught
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| So just turn around to face the pale sun
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| Sweeped across the silent morning
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| Shades of grey they won’t wait for no one
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| So just turn around to face the pale sun |