| Pseudo, squander, plummet, crunch
|
| On the feet of the gods do the endless munch
|
| Hunger, open, whoosh, wind, boom
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| The ash-grey Door of Doom
|
| The moon is still
|
| The stars are still
|
| The wind is still still
|
| But not completely gone
|
| Boom, black circles in the dust
|
| Spinning on a wind deprived of its lust
|
| The sky above is bent and swings
|
| To the sound of silent things
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| I can’t have it all
|
| Flee the moment and the moment will find you
|
| I can’t take the call, but I can hear it
|
| Yeah, I can hear it
|
| I can’t find the words
|
| Speak of the devil and the devil will find you
|
| I’m here but not at all
|
| But not at all
|
| And we know that within
|
| Our model of a human heart is doomed
|
| And still there is that gleaming silence
|
| Underneath a gaping sky and an empty moon
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| No need to operate to save my life
|
| The time is coming, quickly sliding soon
|
| So soon all the breaths in the world stop breathing
|
| And so, consumed
|
| Arrive |