| Too many believe
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| In some master plan
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| Cause its hard to accept
|
| Whats not shapen by hand
|
| But here, under the sun
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| Where events can’t be undone;
|
| Once superstitions spent —
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| You gotta know
|
| We want our brothers back
|
| The hurt came down
|
| From the clear blue sky
|
| The sands of time
|
| Went rushing by
|
| It came as a shock
|
| Wed shut our eyes
|
| Is this all thats left
|
| Just a slow good-bye?
|
| The curators frown
|
| And they wax abstract
|
| But, man, if you’ve found love
|
| What could matter more than that?
|
| Its a crime and a shame (selfish and vain)
|
| To try to justify this pain
|
| I guess theyll think what they will —
|
| But before the dawn
|
| Theyll want their brothers back
|
| The hope came down from a clear blue sky
|
| The sands of time went rushing by
|
| It came as a shock
|
| We’d shut our eyes
|
| Is this all that’s left
|
| Just a slow goodbye?
|
| The hope came down from the clar blue sky
|
| The sands of time went rushing by
|
| It came as a shock
|
| We’d shut our eyes
|
| Is this all that’s left
|
| Just a slow goodbye? |