| I can’t help it, if all the world is ending
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| All the life is gone while you’re calling up this name
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| Where are the Americans?
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| Your dim cultures, your hands and eyes that wander
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| Stumbling down the road
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| Or collapsing on parade
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| We’re lying alone in the Eastern land
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| Slipping in the morning hours, the only sound
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| From the lantern covered hills, the only light
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| From the day yet to begin, the only sign
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| Of the guns and silhouettes
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| The only sound, the only light
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| Only, only!
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| Done with silence, we’re disconnecting lives
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| Pull out the lightning dust
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| At the mention of his name
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| Wither the Americans!
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| Take the memories out, hide the evidence under
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| Piss on the world below
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| Like a dog, that knows its name
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| Where are the Americans?
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| I’m calling on the run tonight
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| Feeling the remaining hours, the only sound
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| Are the bells upon the hill, the only light
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| Are the lanterns in the wind, the only sight
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| Screams the rust off the rails
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| The only sound, the only light
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| Only, only!
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| The only light is the day yet to begin
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| The only sight are the lives in silhouette
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| The only sound is the rushing of the wind
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| The only light is not the only life
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| Only, only! |