| Inside the tunnels, the stone tunnels, are the trains
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| And inside the trains, the steel trains, are the bags of skin
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| And inside the thin skin are the blood and the bones
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| And inside the blood and the bones are the dreams
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| It really is that simple, it really is that fragile
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| I am one such dream inside the blood and the bones and the bags and the
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| Trains and the tunnels
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| There’s a dream sitting next to me
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| There’s a dream across from me
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| Fragile
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| We all know that one day
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| The tunnels will crumble and the trains will stop
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| And the blood and the bags and the bones will be gone
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| And in between now and then something will happen to all the dreams
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| I don’t know what will happen to the other dreams
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| But I know what will happen to me
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| Sure as rain, I know, sure as winter
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| I’ll breathe and grieve and struggle and strive and love, love
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| And if I’m lucky once, just once, the dream will drop to the floor like a vase
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| And shatter in shards of silence
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| Where I will see, I will see in the pattern of the pieces, I will
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| See something
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| This will, this will happen
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| But now the train with all it’s fragile cargo rolls on |