| I saw the white
|
| I saw the green
|
| I saw the tainted black
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| Stains of ink and wax
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| Black bird and a green hand held
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| Held inside my head
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| And inside my head
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| A vast astronomy of birds
|
| Look at the wall
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| The paint has already started to come off
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| It’s all for nothing I guess
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| Which side are you on?
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| Which side are you on?
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| Yeah
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| Side
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| I fall into the wheel of the moon
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| With a circle of sand and bad dreams
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| See, everything piles up now
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| And everything’s exactly what it seems
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| I feel tempted to call a friend
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| And say: Hey, that’s not it at all
|
| You see, I comprehend everything now
|
| And this experiment has blown up in my face like a snowball
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| Now, which side are you on?
|
| Which, which side
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| Are you, are you on?
|
| Once again I cross the narrow field
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| I came to the road but the path was gone
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| Not there
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| I spanned around, I caught the sun
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| I, but then it turned blue
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| It’s just a stain, don’t mean a thing
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| It’s just a stain, it’s just blood
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| I should’ve lied
|
| I should’ve lied
|
| I could’ve lied
|
| Which side are you on?
|
| Which, which side
|
| Are you on?
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| If you come back the house will never be the same again
|
| No
|
| What? |