| Yesterday we lost our lives, tomorrow we were born
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| Fortune smiled upon us, sacrifice the Argus
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| All that he might help us see
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| Magna eyes the track for miles, looking for disease
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| Puzzled by the mountains — tricked by the sea
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| and the Argus is practiced compassion
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| with an eye on you, as one is on me
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| will the god eye grant his forgiveness
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| and allow he that’s lived, a reason to see
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| Counting days and building walls, bells ring so’s to warn
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| All the signs that guide us, chosen by the Argus
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| Tell me has chosen you
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| Led by form we’ll shed our soul
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| Trusting like a child
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| See the dark face that saved us Drink from his empty eyes
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| and the Argus is practiced compassion
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| with an eye on you, as one is on me
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| will the god eye grant his forgiveness
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| letting droplets of light erupt from the sea…
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| Lying in beds of garlic and orchids, he closes an eye, which closes another
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| and in sleep he dreams, of watching and looking and feather clouds dancing
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| He curls up his lid and sleeps…
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| Swirling with visions on man’s confusion
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| All of the work, done just to appease him
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| The Argus he cries, though love has it’s place in the sun
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| It’s only man’s fear that carries him on… |