| Maybe theres a miracle waitin' to happen
|
| In de places and spaces with the mystical patterns
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| Where dark is light and de light is bright
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| It’s a struggle to maintain my appetite
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| In a time thats filled with gluttonous failure
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| I’m at pains to express this ya devious behaviour
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| Spend money, time or a very last dime on de tings you would only ever leave
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| behind
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| It’s a worrying time to lift you head up from the compass
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| With no obvious answers to the questions offered
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| Blinded by the fictions of an audio addiction
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| Takes the senses to a place of imperceptable conditions
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| Like who dare ask the sum of their parts?
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| Who should tell of this becoming hell?
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| To think is the link between life and death
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| Enter this body of sound and escape the mesh
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| As a child i was always happy-go-lucky
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| As a man i believe i am just plain lucky
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| Alive inside of this ya dangerous system
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| Locked in and I’m twisted out of all recognition
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| See this is systematic of the tings I have seen
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| I am lost in Paranoia’s most beautiful dream
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| An escape is made through a thousand doors
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| With a sub bass emerging through the open floor
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| In a state of near paralysis restriction forms analysis
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| Guided by subliminals thats from another galaxy
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| Mobilised and lifted by this powers I’ve been gifted
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| Givin' answers to questions that never existed
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| Like; |
| who dare ask is the sum their parts?
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| Who should tell of this becoming hell?
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| To think is the link between life and death
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| And to this body of sound and escape the mesh |