| You are walking, you’ve always been walking
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| Stumbling half blinded and dry as the wind
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| That strafes you and leaves you to lie in the sand
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| And the wall stretches endless beside you to nowhere
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| This wall that you’ve been trying to cross for years
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| This fence made of tears no one hears
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| You see a door, ah, such a great open door
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| You know that your eyes tellin' lies still you chance
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| A shambling run, a ridiculous dance
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| Like a scarecrow that’s hung up to dry on a fence pole
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| And there’s a place like vacuum waiting inside you
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| For you to get through to the blue
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| You scent the water, fresh green grass, food and water
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| Your breath is scraping your brain into dust
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| Your rusty old engine is ready to bust
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| You cannot believe it that they would not trust you
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| The door is wavering, is that your eyes?
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| Are they still telling lies? |
| What are lies? |