With the motion of a bird with a broken wing No place to prey on you for now Hair-raising prospects and head-toned harmony When the way is finally found in the stacks and piles of dead promises we keep around From the grotto haze the days will elevate Mirror ruination to the daytime From the bedlam block to the realtime rodeo When the way is finally found in the stacks and piles of dead promises we keep around When the way is finally found in the stacks and piles of dead promises that we keep around
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