| Seasons collide from between the black and white
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| As the winter reigns you in and holds you tight
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| Echoes pull me through a landscape untouched
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| Where some will never go
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| Chasing avalanches through fields of snow
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| Like animals so free to roam
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| (Like animals so free to roam)
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| Held underwater, watching reflections rise
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| Between needle and twine from unravelling nights that held up the sky
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| The thread flows on and on and the snowflakes start to fall
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| But if we chase it on we’ll lose ourselves to the winter’s beckon call
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| Through trees where light divides
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| We walk towards a door that leads to compromise
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| Never asking why
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| They said don’t follow the winter thread
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| But we’re already too foreign
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| It says it knows our plight but its words strike cold
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| Hailing down upon our roofs, with every home it grows
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| We’ll retreat into the flaws where our hearts were born, opened and exposed
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| Because we base our dreams in reality like faux, fading fools
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| Floral in bloom, yet our petals have no room to stretch out
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| Losing them all to gloom
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| Our clothes are ragged and our health is poor
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| Every home has shut their doors
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| And the windows cover any hope of hearth or warmth
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| Our aching soles can’t go on for long, our feet are blistered and worn
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| How long does the road go on?
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| If no one helps us we’ll soon be gone
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| Through trees where light divides
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| We walk towards a door that leads to compromise
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| Never asking why
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| They said don’t follow the winter thread
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| But we’re already too foreign
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| Let’s return to the days where winds blew through our diamond bones
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| Because if we move we may shatter and break
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| Like poor, porcelain dolls
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| Clacking our heels at the door waiting for you to let us in
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| With alabaster faces that fold over themselves from end to end
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| The strings that tie and bind are dancing over our heads
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| A tango of puppets that pretend to cut the strings
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| Keeping their bodies in their beds
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| Through trees where light divides
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| We walk towards a door that leads to compromise
|
| Never asking why
|
| They said don’t follow the winter thread
|
| But we’re already too foreign
|
| Let’s return to the days where winds blew through our diamond bones
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| Because if we move we may shatter and break
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| Like poor, porcelain dolls
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| As the winter reigns you in |