| At night, this mindless army, ranks unbroken by dissent
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| Is moved into action and their pace does not relent
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| In step, with great precision, these dancers of the night
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| Advance against the darkness — how implacable their might!
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| Eyes undulled by moon, their arms and legs akimbo
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| They walk and live, hoping soon to surface from this limbo
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| Their minds, anticipating the dawn of the day
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| Shall never know what’s waiting mere insight away
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| — too far, too soon
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| Senses dimmed in semi-sentience, only wheeling through this plane
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| Only seeing fragmented images, prematurely curtailed by the brain
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| But breathing, living, knowing in some measure at least
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| The soul which roots the matter of both Beauty and the Beast
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| From what tooth or claw does murder spring
|
| From what flesh and blood does passion?
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| Both cut through the air with the pendulum’s swing
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| In deadly but delicate fashion
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| And every range of feeling is there in the dream
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| And every logic’s reeling in the force of the scream;
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| The senses sting
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| And though I may be dreaming and reality stalls
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| I only know the meaning of sight and that’s all
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| And that’s nothing
|
| The columns of the night advance
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| Infectiously, their cryptic dance
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| Gathers converts to the fold —
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| In time the whole raw world will pace these same steps
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| On into the same bitter end
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| Somnolent muster — now the dancing dead
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| Forsake the shelter of their secure beds
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| Awaken to a slumber whose depths they dread
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| As if the ground they tread would give way
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| Beneath the solemn weight of their conception
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| I’d search the hidden corners of all this world
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| Make reason of the sensory whorl
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| If I only had time
|
| But soon the dream is ended
|
| Tonight, before you lay down to the sweetness of your sleep
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| Do you question your surrender to the drop from Lover’s Leap
|
| Or does the anaesthetic darkness take hold on its very own?
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| Does your body rise in service with not one dissenting groan?
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| These waking dreams of life and death
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| In the mirror are twisted and buckled;
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| Lashes flicker, a catch of breath
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| Skin whitening at the knuckles
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| The army of sleepwalkers shake their limbs and are loose
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| And though I am a talker, I can phrase no excuse
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| Not to rise again
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| In the chorus of the night-time I belong
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| And I, like you, must dance to that moonlight song
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| And in the end I, too, must pay the cost of this life
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| If all is lost none is known
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| And how could we lose what we’ve never owned?
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| Oh, I’d search out every knowledge that I could find
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| Unravel all the mysteries of mind
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| If I only had time
|
| If I only had time
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| But soon my time is ended |