We see you from the river, you fantastic bird of prey
From within the stream you seem so close
But you know you're so far away
If the river dried, you'd think you'd died and gone to heaven
To be free of the burden
No more relying on your friends
We devolved plebiscites, stuck in the mud, can't see the true horizon
We're stuck in the mud. We're sticks in the mud.
Luckily we could never experience true fun.
One minute a master, the next a babe, before the night, shines the day, a thousand deaths an hour and a thousand more lives, the rows of teeth in every smile, shining out, ready to speak, and what do you think they've got to say? One minute a master, the next a babe, before the night, shines the day
Mountain peaks shine in your eyes behind the glaze and crusted sleep. Oh, you've discovered much and the mysteries of life aren't so deep as they used to be. I can see you're dying to cross the river, but you'll never make it trying to return to me. The bridges are nothing but charcoal bones. They burned while you were on the cosmic journey to the centre of your own fucking eyeball.
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