| I drove the highways of a skeleton coast
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| Salt and sea, tapped mysteries into the keys
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| I wrote an opus of distorted truths
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| A symphony to crashing waves of victory
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| Oo, I am a ghostwriter
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| Oo, pretend I am forever young
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| Oo, I bleed every ribbon dry
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| Waiting for my day to come
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| Tamerlane, my poor soul in a last refrain
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| An endless storm rattles on my windowpane
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| The creaking floors, lost voices of a thousand wars
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| The fire roars
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| Oo, I am a ghostwriter
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| Oo, pretend I am forever young
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| Oo, I bleed every ribbon dry
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| Waiting for my day to come
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| How long
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| Can we sing the same old tired songs?
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| How long
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| Can we tread water?
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| The shore is only getting smaller
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| I am a ghostwriter
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| Pretend I am forever young
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| And I bleed every ribbon dry
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| Waiting for my day to come
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| Waiting for my day to come
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| To come |