| At the dawning of the day we die
|
| I wander into town in a kind of daze
|
| And with the cold and foreign stars above
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| This place looks very different now today
|
| I was a stranger to my homeland and its
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| Dreaming acts awake inside my head
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| My body lives a thousand miles away
|
| But my mind was always living here instead
|
| Living here instead
|
| Living here instead
|
| You’ve seen me wander through the grass
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| On a pattern, on a path, but it never ends
|
| Though ten thousand years have passed inside my skull
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| I’m waiting up here to descend
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| Sometimes you walk into the woods
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| Sometimes you disappear
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| Sometimes you are replaced
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| And people know you just to see you
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| They know your old life
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| But you have been changed
|
| You are not the same
|
| No
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| You are not the same
|
| The wandering days
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| The lowest life
|
| I’ll never see your face again
|
| I’m over the lake
|
| Unearthly light
|
| Illuminates the parking lot
|
| And everyone says
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| You’ve stayed too long
|
| I hear the voices raised in song
|
| It’s the golden age
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| Coming on
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| I was searching for release
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| In the fire, in the fire, but it never came
|
| Then though we try, we try to leave
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| We’re always redirected right back here again
|
| And now I don’t remember anything
|
| Before I opened up my own head
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| If we are dreaming, let us die
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| And let these stranger eons
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| Now become our bed
|
| We are living low, low life
|
| Until the end of days
|
| We are living low, low life
|
| Until the end of days
|
| We are living low, low life
|
| Until the end of days
|
| Yeah yeah yeah
|
| We are living low, low life
|
| Until the end of days |