| 7 o’clock in the morning, got a message from afar
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| Down under an oasis where there are dreams still being born
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| And summer spoke to winter relaying all encouraging words
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| And I was fully grateful mutant messages were heard
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| Moved on from my despondency and left it in the bed
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| Do I leave it there still sleeping or maybe kill it better yet
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| For this is no time for depression or self-indulgent hesitance
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| This fucked-up situation calls for all hands, hands on deck
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| Freedom is as freedom does and freedom is a verb
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| They giveth and they taketh and you fight to keep that what you’ve earned
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| We saw the destination, got so close before it turned
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| Swim sideways from this undertow and do not be deterred
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| Floodlight dreams go drifting past
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| All the lines we could’ve had
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| Distant loves floating above
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| Close these eyes, they’ve seen enough
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| Caught the butterfly, broke its wings then put it on display
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| Oh, stripped of all its beauty once it could not fly high away
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| Oh, still alive like a passer-by overdosed on gamma rays
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| Another God’s creation destined to be thrown away
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| Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse they forged the north and west
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| And you got Sitting Bullshit as our sitting president
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| Oh, talking to his mirror, what’s he say, what’s it say back?
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| A tragedy of errors, who’ll be the last to have a laugh?
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| His best days gone, hard to admit
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| Throwing angry punches with nothing to hit
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| Luminous thoughts were once all he had
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| Fading lights, lost eloquence
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| There’s still a fire in the engine room
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| Knows relief will be coming soon
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| What’s to be done?
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| Carve a path for Rivers reign
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| Much to be done
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| Oceans rising with the waves
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| Oh, held by these thoughts
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| They refuse to slip away
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| Oh, hangman in dreamland
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| About to call your name
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| Much to be done… Much to be… |