| And there implied is that I’m but another body for the birds
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| Carrion, absurd and accidental atoms, beating air
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| Carrying on, unwitting orphan of an unyielding despair
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| But linger on, just for a moment, until we can ascertain…
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| If something’s wrong with me or the assumptions of these self-indicted brains
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| Because I contend that all of this is more than just a meaningless charade
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| That each and every moment is a bottle with a message hid away
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| If anything means anything
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| There must be something meant for us to be
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| A song that we were made to sing
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| There must be so much more than we can see
|
| But all our lives, we’ve been treading paper in the space between the words
|
| And there implied’s the thought that we are barely more than bodies for the
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| birds
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| Carrion, they say that we’re just accidental atoms beating air
|
| Carrying on and on, unwitting orphans of an unyielding despair
|
| But our hearts tell a different story
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| Our hands feel a different pulse
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| If anything means anything
|
| There must be something meant for us to be
|
| If anything means anything
|
| There must be something meant for us to be
|
| A song that we were made to sing
|
| There must be so much more than we can see
|
| Something…
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| Fathomless, deeper than our pride can dive
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| Numinous, higher than our hearts can rise
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| Transcendent, further than our thoughts can reach
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| Immanent, closer than the air we breathe |