| When the ringing bell falls deaf, we go look for dark
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| Where no flag is waving red, we look for dark
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| Out where there’s no whites of eyes, out where there’s no stars
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| Casting far and watching night, we go look for dark
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| To get da
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| To get da
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| To get da
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| To get free of the feeling
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| Past the grave and Vicar’s House, people packed in bars
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| All the chaste and junkies raising hands to God
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| Down the alley, sleeping rough, pressing darkness
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| To the ground, he cannot touch, we go look for dark
|
| To get free of the feeling
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| Free of the feeling
|
| Free of the feeling
|
| Free of the feeling
|
| Streetlights and cameras, we’re separate and alone
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| Orphaned and alien down here where stars shine wrong
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| The book might tell me what to think but the pulse is what I know
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| The infant goes right for the drink, my heart beats on its own
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| Free of the feeling
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| Free of the feeling
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| Free of the feeling
|
| Out there is no sky that has been named sky
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| Opening no heaven that has been named, let it rain
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| Out there is no river that has been named river
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| Washing over no sinner that has been named, let it rain
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| Out there is no tower that has been named closer to God
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| Watching over no children that have been named lost
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| I woke the wet moon
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| I woke the wet moon
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| I woke the wet moon
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| I woke the wet moon |