| White sun, spring of wealth
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| Come for a good time, it’s not what I have
|
| Vibrate, life on the line
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| My racing heart, your vacant mind
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| If I sow a wind now, I will reap a storm
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| You saw me sliding away from the sun
|
| And tomorrow, who will come and put their hand over mine?
|
| Mine with the burning shape of a gun
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| Washed out soul of money
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| I couldn’t keep the fire, it’s not what I do
|
| Vibrate, life on the line
|
| My racing heart, it’s all I find
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| Inside the sickness, rest
|
| Inside the sickness, rest
|
| If I sow a wind now, I will reap a storm
|
| You saw me sliding away from the sun
|
| And tomorrow, who will come and put their hand over mine?
|
| Mine with the burning shape of a gun
|
| If I sow a wind now, I will reap a storm
|
| You saw me sliding away from the sun
|
| And tomorrow, who will come and put their hand over mine?
|
| Mine with the burning shape of a gun |