| When the babies born
|
| Oh, let’s turn it to the snow
|
| So that ice will surely grow
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| Over weak and brittle bones
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| Oh, let’s leave it to the wolves
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| Oh, their teeth turn it to food
|
| Oh, its flesh keeps them alive
|
| Oh, its death helps life survive
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| Oh, the world can be kind in its own way
|
| Oh well your future’s a machine
|
| With the mechanics of a dream
|
| It is your mind that spins the wheel
|
| And your heart that makes you feel
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| All the guilt for all your sins
|
| Oh and as that wheel spins
|
| Oh well it plays as they believed
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| And for your husband you have grieved
|
| Oh the world
|
| Still decieves you as it turns
|
| Well in my weakest moments I could see
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| Oh that the heart may be The weakest part of me Oh and the moon controls
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| The movements of the tide
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| Oh but it has no weight on the movements of my mind
|
| But if you turn your hands to flames
|
| Oh the light will burn the same
|
| Whether you just pass it through
|
| Or if it’s what you meant to do And your sense of culpability
|
| Is from the guides that you perceived
|
| Their constant lie that you believe
|
| Will show you grace
|
| Oh when you turn to a ghost
|
| Oh but now the love you found
|
| Is raising you from muddy ground
|
| And oh the death will let you down
|
| 'Cause your curse will still go on the same |