| Walk to precursor that stands
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| In front of this living creation
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| Spoken with pace in this sacred space
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| The gears are starting to tremble
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| It lifts up its hand from this golden strand of fiber
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| Stops, and it waits there
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| Turning its head, awake from the dead
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| The gears are starting to tremble
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| Now by this time, it’s straightened its spine
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| Looks down to its chest of silver
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| Reaching it hand to this withered man
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| The gears are starting to tremble
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| Shadow and doom are gone from this room
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| Where I sit, sheltered by seaside
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| Lambent gold heart shall tear me apart
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| My gears are starting to tremble
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| My gears are starting to tremble |