| The past comes upon you like smoke on the air
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| You can smell it and find yourself gone
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| To a place that you lived without worry or care
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| Isn’t that where we all once came from
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| Green leaves and tall trees and stars overhead
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| And the sound of the world through the screen
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| But now you sleep with the covers pulled over your head
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| And you never remember to dream
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| You think you’re just standing still
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| One day you’ll get up that hill
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| In the age of miracles
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| Is one on the way
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| Greenland is melting, the west is on fire
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| But don’t ever stop praying for rain
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| It’s a curious place between hope and desire
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| Different gods, but the prayer is the same
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| And thousand-year storms seem to form on a breeze
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| Drowning all living things in their paths
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| And when a small southern town finds a rope in a tree
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| We’re all once again trapped in the past
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| We can fly through space with the greatest of ease
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| We can land in the dust of the moon
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| We can transform our lives with the tap of the keys
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| Still we can’t shake this feeling of doom
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| But I woke to find monks pouring into the streets
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| Marching thousands strong into the rain
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| Now if courage comes dressed in red robes and bare feet
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| I will never be fearful again
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| There’s one on the way |