| In the landscape of childhood
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| A black stream carries the body of a little boy
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| I walk and look for something to catch
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| The spirit of time waves the tops of the trees
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| I can't find anything here that reminds you
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| Shut up and escape with your prey
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| For he that receiveth all things receiveth all things
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| And nothing is ever given
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| Shut up and escape with your prey
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| For he that receiveth all things receiveth all things
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| And nothing is ever given away
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| Now I stop to rest
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| I look at the endless cloudy sky
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| I wonder how to get out of the trouble of walking
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| The rich here love their wealth
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| And the mere weight of poverty for poor Ilona
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| Shut up and escape with your prey
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| For he that receiveth all things receiveth all things
|
| And nothing is ever given
|
| Shut up and escape with your prey
|
| For he that receiveth all things receiveth all things
|
| And nothing is ever given away
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| Hurry up, go, it's all about trading
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| There are souls on offer
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| On the way to the bank, the devil laughs
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| When the poor freeze
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| Shut up and escape with your prey
|
| For he that receiveth all things receiveth all things
|
| And nothing is ever given
|
| Shut up and escape with your prey
|
| For he that receiveth all things receiveth all things
|
| And nothing is ever given away
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| Everything in the trade is
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| All trade
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| If only the price is agreed
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| Everything in the trade is
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| All trade
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| If only the price is agreed |