| Struck by the sight of waking dreams
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| At hand our time’s before our eyes
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| Called out to look beyond what seemed
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| To hear the woe an angel cry
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| In the distance the sun rose
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| Near we heard a clock chime
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| But the breeze murmured not yet
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| For there still is just a very little time
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| Our faces drenched by pouring rain
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| We laughed as closely we had clung
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| Our senses keen from lack of pain
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| Our souls the streams of songs we sung
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| Now the shadings around us
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| Judged yet not by our sight
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| In the light of our questing
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| The truth came through more clearly into sight
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| Around the eyes of disbelief
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| Intoxicated by their doubt
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| Moreover offered no relief
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| Afraid to look for finding out
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| Yet some danced and some sang songs
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| And some live for today
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| And around us the windows
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| Of wonder were unshuttered on our way |