| Across the flatlands we came out of nowhere special
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| Like a peasant revolution — makeshift weapons in our hands
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| We crashed the gates so hard we’d never heard that kind of sound before
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| And braced ourselves for victory and the spoils of the land
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| Defences melt away before our frozen blank surprise
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| From the palace now we stare into a million waiting eyes
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| Ch: I’ve got my trophies on the wall, the heads I’ve hunted down the hall
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| And I guard my winnings well, carry them with me when I fall
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| Now the daylight hours pass like the people I have lost
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| In the triumph of the hour, in the bloody cause — lust for power
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| Like a vision she dances through the shafts of light
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| Everything I’ve ever dreamed about focused true and bright
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| And fortune opens up the ground, blackens out the sky
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| I kissed her once, I kissed her twice but I couldn’t remember why
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| When I was young they taught me well to always play to win
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| But they never said what happens when you’ve won the bloody game
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| Ch: I’ve got my trophies on the wall..
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| And all desire is satisfied but still the hunt goes on
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| It’s funny how this feeling stays with all the reasons gone
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| We’ve seen them fat and bloated those who once could hold a flame
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| I’ve run for home and words gone by but nothing seems the same
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| I can watch the world in secrecy from one side of this glass
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| From the other my reflection and I don’t know which is worse
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| The streets are lined with glittering stores and a million fatted calves
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| I can catch myself sometimes these days and all I do is laugh, laugh
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| Ch: I’ve got my trophies on the wall. |
| . |