| In the basement a tunnel to heaven,
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| On a thin gauze morning a dark tapestry weaves,
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| Gloomy faces, alone with sins,
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| In the hallway with no return,
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| My bird is entangled in a black bush,
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| Zaneta titraina star Danica.
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| And a late breath as it cools the steel,
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| The scalpel slides down the thread of the rosary.
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| There's a plan for the angels to steal it,
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| Or at least for a moment to bring her back among them,
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| Because sometimes the sky makes a great ballad
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| And look for a rhyme for the main verse.
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| A gentle white legion storms the city,
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| January spreads its sophisticated rug,
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| The first snow and I are in secret collusion,
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| That winter awaits her trail,
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| Not worth the stories I know,
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| Lies for sleepy eyes,
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| I'm making up a weird fairy tale upside down
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| Lullaby,
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| To stay awake from her.
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| There is a path that chooses bystanders,
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| Mysterious road always prone to the best,
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| Because sometimes the sky only plays black races
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| And look for a note for that tone.
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| Somewhere I'm a confused boy
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| It stands on the bridge,
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| Because he just suspects you exist,
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| Somewhere in you, a chained song is waiting for you
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| Which no one alive knows yet,
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| In you the chain rattles with secret rings,
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| You will be a mother to mothers.
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| There's a plan for the angels to steal from you,
|
| Or at least for a moment to bring you back among them,
|
| Because sometimes the sky makes a great ballad
|
| And look for a rhyme for the main verse.
|
| There is a path that chooses bystanders,
|
| Mysterious road always prone to the best,
|
| Because sometimes the sky only plays black races
|
| And look for a note for that tone. |