| [Verse 1]
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| Sometimes, for a moment of bliss
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| And the passion, we're craving
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| There's a message we miss
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| Sometimes when the spirits left alone
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| We must believe in something
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| To find if we've grown
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| [Bridge]
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| Tragic reflex, shattered calm
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| Static progress, senses gone
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| Numb awareness, final psalm
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| [Chorus]
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| Swept away with the tide
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| Through the holes in my hands
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| Crown of thorns at my side
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| Drawing lines in the sand
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| [Verse 2]
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| Sometimes, if you're perfectly still
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| You can hear the virgin weeping
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| For the savior of your will
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| Sometimes, your castles in the air
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| And the fantasies you're seeking
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| Are the crosses you bear
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| [Bridge]
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| Sacred conflict, blessed prize
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| Weeping crosses, stainless eyes
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| Desperate addict, faith disguised
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| [Chorus]
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| Swept away with the tide
|
| Through the holes in my hands
|
| Crown of thorns at my side
|
| Drawing lines in the sand
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| [Guitar Solo]
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| [Verse 3]
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| We fabricate our demons
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| Invite them into our homes
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| Have supper with the aliens
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| And fight the war alone
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| We conjure up our skeletons
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| Enlist the den of thieves
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| Frightened from our closets
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| Then sewn upon our sleeves
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| In the stream of consciousness
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| There is a river crying
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| Living comes much easier
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| Once we admit we're dying
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| [Verse 4]
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| Sometimes, in the wreckage of our wake
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| There's a bitterness we harbor
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| And hate for hatred's sake
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| Sometime we dig an early grave
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| And crucify our instincts
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| For the hope we couldn't save
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| Sometimes a view from sinless eyes
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| Centers our perspective
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| And pacifies our cries
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| Sometimes the anguish we survive
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| And the mysteries we nurture
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| Are the fabrics of our lives
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| [Chorus]
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| Swept away with the tide
|
| Through the holes in my hands
|
| Crown of thorns at my side
|
| Drawing lines in the sand |