| A seasoned witch could call you from the depths of your disgrace,
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| And rearrange your liver to the solid mental grace,
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| And achieve it all with music that came quickly from afar,
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| Then taste the fruit of man recorded losing all against the hour.
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| And assessing points to nowhere, leading ev’ry single one.
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| A dewdrop can exalt us like the music of the sun,
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| And take away the plain in which we move,
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| And choose the course you’re running.
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| Down at the edge, round by the corner,
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| Not right away, not right away.
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| Close to the edge, down by a river,
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| Not right away, not right away.
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| Crossed the line around the changes of the summer,
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| Reaching out to call the color of the sky.
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| Passed around a moment clothed in mornings faster than we see.
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| Getting over all the time I had to worry,
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| Leaving all the changes far from far behind.
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| We relieve the tension only to find out the master’s name.
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| Down at the end, round by the corner.
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| Close to the edge, just by a river.
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| Seasons will pass you by.
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| I get up, I get down.
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| Now that it’s all over and done,
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| Now that you find, now that you’re whole.
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| My eyes convinced, eclipsed with the younger moon attained with love.
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| It changed as almost strained amidst clear manna from above.
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| I crucified my hate and held the word within my hand.
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| There’s you, the time, the logic, or the reasons we don’t understand.
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| Sad courage claimed the victims standing still for all to see,
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| As armoured movers took approached to overlook the sea.
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| There since the cord, the license, or the reasons we understood will be.
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| Down at the edge, close by a river.
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| Close to the edge, round by the corner.
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| Close to the end, down by the corner.
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| Down at the edge, round by the river.
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| -acap |