| Took a walk up on Riverside
|
| By the Fireman’s Stone
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| Where a wall of candles said
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| They would not spend this night alone
|
| Meanwhile under the city
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| Where the tunnels run hot
|
| Exchanging glances shared tonight
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| What before we could not
|
| Ah… connected now
|
| Joined at the hip
|
| Much deeper and steeper
|
| Than your ipso facto citizenship
|
| Ah… connected now
|
| Fused by the fire
|
| We used to look up to our leaders
|
| But now we‘re looking higher
|
| It travels deep like the rivers
|
| When they‘ve grown into a flood
|
| When we feel the rhythm of the ages
|
| Hear it singing in our blood
|
| It flows as murky as our history
|
| It sits as ancient as the stones
|
| We sense it pulling us together
|
| Something tribal in our bones
|
| Sooner or later
|
| We know the tempest will come
|
| Laying waste all that‘s before it
|
| Taking lives but sparing some
|
| And in the cold night that follows
|
| As we huddle by the flame
|
| Something new has come upon us
|
| But something ancient still remains
|
| Ah… connected now
|
| What was there beneath the things we lost
|
| Was hiding under the surface until
|
| The day we were the tempest-tossed |