| As a straight line heading north-west echoes nowhere
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| A few marks on THE DASHBOARD OF DISASTER
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| Some names glitter on the glitter, clouds caught in thin air
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| Go ahead, TRY LIVING HAPPY EVERY AFTER
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| The cold meets against the coast, steal Miller’s daughter
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| Raised against THE BACKHAND OF THE NORTH
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| Order up a round, I’ll have another
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| Oh, labor will have us anyway on all fours
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| There’s no man to dig a hole without forgiveness
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| Unless it’s near WHERE FORTUNE COMES TO CRY
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| Curl up beneath the stars and those resting on the bars
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| Come talk to me begging a ripple drowned and high
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| Can’t you see the darkness beside your sons?
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| The teeth are grinding up somewhere the dead grass
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| Chewing all the rusted hopefulness of options
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| A thousand times as wild as Roger’s path
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| There’s no man to dig a hole without forgiveness
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| Unless it’s near WHERE FORTUNE COMES TO CRY
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| Flags will rise against you, you’ll stay still on the surface
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| Maybe here’s a place where fortune comes to die
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| Here’s a place WHERE FORTUNE COMES TO DIE |