| Darazdeblek unveiled the path and
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| Sustained our fate with nonsensical sentences…
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| «At the surface of the river Glance
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| Whistle the taboos of a mystified aesthete chancellor
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| Dancing around the working loom… «He said
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| «I wish that you could ever read what’s on my mind…
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| I wish that you could ever glow sometimes…
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| Within those days I’ll dance above the river Glance
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| And my prick is what you’ll feel… «Torn ! |
| Tasks ! |
| Machines ! |
| Tempted properties…
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| The looming chancellor swings among the mango women-leaves
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| This taste for sweet noise delivers the disease !
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| Man ! |
| In those lands of wasted words we pray for silent wind…
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| And sing
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| «I wish that you could ever read what’s on my mind…
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| I wish that you could ever glow sometimes…
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| Within those days I’ll dance above the river Glance
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| And my prick is what you’ll feel… «Our fella came to us to ask for redemption…
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| And as a good claimer gave us gifts of compassion
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| And told us about his dissident brother
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| Who was born in an eagle glove and
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| Above us wanted to tower…
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| But the Sword and the Wreck
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| The Clash and wheels of time
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| The eagle crushed the glove
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| And in the forth finger he died
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| And moaned
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| «I wish that you could ever read what’s on my mind…
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| I wish that you could ever glow sometimes…
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| Within those days I’ll dance above the river Glance
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| And my prick is what you’ll feel… » |