| Now the heart if not to feel
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| Is a wandering waste in the driest land
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| Now form these heights of this hills
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| There’s a funny thing that no one else can see
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| There’s a liar, a liar on the stage with a young child’s eyes
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| And it happens all wrong and only half of its seen from here
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| Where has all the time gone
|
| In separate ways it runs long
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| A hundred miles built upon us
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| It’s tearing at the seams of all that’s been
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| Tearing at the seams of all that’s been
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| Wait, is this a game or am I walking into a snare?
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| Now these lies will spread until we are choking on the innocent
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| They have half of us tied and half of us in chains
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| We’re all covering our eyes and covering our mouths just the same
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| Where’s all the time gone
|
| In separate ways it runs long
|
| A hundred miles built upon us
|
| It’s tearing at the seams of all that’s been
|
| Tearing at the seams of all that’s been
|
| It’s tearing at the seams of all that’s been
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| They’re gonna have to drag us away… |