| I pulled a thread out of the air
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| Golden and shining as thin as a hair
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| I couldn’t do nothing but hold it and stare
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| I don’t know why it was hovering there
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| I felt it pull on something inside
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| My chest was heaving, the knot came untied
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| And freed me to move, to stir from my stone
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| Determined to never again be alone
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| Wrapping the golden thread tight round my wrist
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| I picture you singing to wolves in the mist
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| You were my companions but you left me behind
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| A frown on your face and revenge on your mind
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| The wolves are long gone, the years have flown by
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| And I slept on a cliff side with views of the sky
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| Hoping that maybe you’d visit anew
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| The site where your soul left and upwards it flew
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| Now this thread fills me again with resolve
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| A mission to go on, a mystery to solve
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| I soar above treetops the thread as my guide
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| It’s pulling me closer to you as I glide
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| As I glide
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| I then see a churchyard, with only one stone
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| With writing unusual, the body unknown
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| Did you pass by here when you set out alone?
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| The words bring no comfort and chill to the bone
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| Etch some words
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| Arrange them well
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| It seems you got a lot to tell
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| Writings echo what you think
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| Using shadows as your ink
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| You chisel memories in stone
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| These thoughts are yours and yours alone
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| You’re alone
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| You’re alone
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| You’re alone
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| Lay down the words
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| Relax your grasp
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| And sleep beneath the epitaph
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| You’re alone
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| You’re alone
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| You’re alone |