| Modern industrial life
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| Take your soul in its fangs
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| We might as well be
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| All washed away
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| If I don’t hang on tight
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| If I let myself stray
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| I will lose my sight
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| And I will be washed away
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| And, oh, some days I walk my own
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| Oh, my own pace
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| It takes away the heartache
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| It seems no one has their own eyes
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| And we all speak from the cage
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| Are we living in fright
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| Consenting to be washed away
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| I’ll lose my heart, my own eyes
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| I’ll lose the smell of the rain
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| As I walk aimless in the night
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| I will be washed away
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| And, oh, some days I brush the palm
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| Oh, of my hand
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| Across the face of this forgotten land
|
| I left my print in the sand
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| Organic mark made
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| I got up and walked in the night
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| And I refused to be washed away
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| The burden of modern life
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| The heart it beats and it prays
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| Forever to walk in the night
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| And never be washed away
|
| And, oh, some days I walk my own
|
| Oh, my own pace
|
| It takes away the heartache
|
| And oh some days, I brush the palm
|
| Oh, of my hand
|
| Across the face of this forgotten land |