| And it felt like a blind guide,
|
| Leading me into question.
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| Fight fair, fight fair.
|
| But all you hear is noise.
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| Fight fair, fight fair!
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| I’ve earthed this seed so many times,
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| Deeply held in this skin of bark.
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| Branches made of ash,
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| And forests born aflame.
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| Restless and full of poison,
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| Shattered by a sea of dialogue.
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| Rabid speech, like dogs with teeth.
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| With words like a beggar, that don’t speak.
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| Crouched and bent out of shape.
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| Rip this tongue out by the root,
|
| And shake these walls off this building.
|
| A blaze is set upon the hills.
|
| A blaze is set upon the hills.
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| An open grave from which a great forest will rise.
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| A fire collapses, the corpses I’ve made.
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| This should not be, oh how we curse.
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| The tongue is a flame, let there be grace.
|
| With words like a beggar, that don’t speak.
|
| Rip this tongue out by the root,
|
| And shake these walls,
|
| Shake these walls off this building.
|
| A blaze is set upon the hills.
|
| A blaze is set upon the hills.
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| Fight fair! |