Leads between the lines of the hand.
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The sky is in thought, in the clouds.
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Lines broken dotted line.
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Like this world on paper.
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Someone in screaming silence.
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Secretly brings thoughts to me.
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Collect from all particles.
|
Songs of provinces and capitals.
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Chorus:
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To breathe, to hear this night.
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The night is rushing forward exactly.
|
To help us.
|
To become closer to the sun to the heart.
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And not to lose.
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Sound inside.
|
Confessions of sad strings.
|
That shone in a thousand moons.
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Just completely rubbish.
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Dreams trust your poetry.
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To let in.
|
Just two words you and me.
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We will bring down the stream of words.
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And not seeing the stop sign.
|
Collect from all particles.
|
Songs of provinces and capitals.
|
Chorus:
|
To breathe, to hear this night.
|
The night is rushing forward exactly.
|
To help us.
|
To become closer to the sun to the heart.
|
And not to lose.
|
Sound inside.
|
Confessions of sad strings.
|
That shone in a thousand moons.
|
To breathe, to hear this night.
|
The night is rushing forward exactly.
|
To help us.
|
To become closer to the sun to the heart.
|
And not to lose.
|
Sound inside.
|
Confessions of sad strings.
|
That shone in a thousand moons. |