| On a quest to form the shape of …
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| I’ve not entered
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| In the middle of the wild lies a man
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| Who cries over the loss of a disc world
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| Omnia, this is all
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| This is everything
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| Unless it falls into you
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| Who carries us home that we’ve long defended
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| Prophetic dreams of Romans
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| At the sound of querent seeking divination
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| Pass over the queen and revel in her sea and
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| Face the fight that storms the poles
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| I’ve not entered my new world
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| Sound the end, theocracy
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| On a quest to reform my own ways
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| Ritualistic fortune tellers
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| And the querents who seek them
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| Unless it falls into you
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| Under the kingdom there’s a reptile queen
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| The distance the sleep counts down to zero
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| Walls expand and raise to third degree
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| Let me be I can’t defeat you with my patience
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| Listen here regrettable wretch
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| The wisest speak with the weight of a round world
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| All along an enemy so old
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| Let me be I can’t defeat you with my patience
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| I starve my brain with nothing but my dreams
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| When we stare to the ground I’m nothing but around to most
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| For what makes them hang above the earth
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| I catapult out over wasted days
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| Can’t let them know my brain turned off
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| I feel nothing for a superstar |