| You trickle down from out of the ceiling
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| In hollow space so dark and cool.
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| And where you land is where I am layered.
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| I rise and pile out of pools.
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| Who are you today?
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| Won’t you shed some light
|
| Or will you keep me on ice?
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| When you’re in drops am I your collector
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| In puddles gathered around my feet?
|
| But if you, you decide to run,
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| Break me from this ground I grow on.
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| Take the space that we never filled
|
| And give me a view of what is outside and above.
|
| Old water cools and pushes me closer.
|
| In broken streams you aren’t so high.
|
| But what I reach is just what you left there,
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| All block and brittle, multiplied.
|
| So when you, you decide to run
|
| Break me from this ground I grow on.
|
| Take the space that we never filled
|
| And give me a view of what is outside and above.
|
| So when you, you decide to run
|
| Break me from this ground we grew on.
|
| Take the space that we’ll never fill
|
| And give me a view of what is outside
|
| So I can see just where I stand.
|
| But who will you be today?
|
| Won’t you shed me some light
|
| Or will you keep me on ice? |