| I’ve been talking with the wind a lot
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| Throwing words out that I’ve kept too long
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| We breathe the same way when we’re drawn
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| I know I have a friend in it
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| Ah, your fingers weave, above the trees
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| Ah, the talking wind, the turning leaves
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| As you left, a force, to fly on
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| You left a fragment to be played upon
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| Fallen and grown new, the wind restored
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| It went right through
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| I stood in it’s way and became it
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| Ah, your fingers weave, above the trees
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| Ah, the talking wind, the turning leaves
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| Ah, your shoulder blades, among the waves
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| Ah, you fly away, and dissipate
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| The wind makes sound instead of words
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| And I think I understand
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| Neither needs to explain in turn
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| It cries out, and I understand |