| You can find my signs in this paradise
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| Where myriad the mornings shined
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| That I have hardly dreamed of
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| Through a hallucinary spell of time
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| A place where hunter gatherers
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| Gathered in their grave-house
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| My name was spoken on the wind
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| That blew away the sun
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| Billion year old being!
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| Statues planes and skyscrapers
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| Are underneath the seas and rivers
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| I emerge up from the seams of fate
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| To sew my secrets in the dirt
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| Then all the temples to the elements
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| Will be made from human skeletons
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| Turning in the universe
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| Like the moon around the earth
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| Billion year old being!
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| Rise rise my spirit rise
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| Shine a light over fields of fire
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| Sing sing my spirit sing
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| Over woodland glade and mountain spring
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| How soon the sun can turn the hands of time
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| And the cupstone flows with sacrifice
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| Tempered skin into beaten drum
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| Woodland bones ring out
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| With trumpet voice
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| Hawks ascend out of the open graves
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| Hand-made hills carved out of dead sand
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| Sacred are our waters no frost could still
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| Cloven myths shape the sun-cross of life |