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Breaking the stone, |
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A thousand years, an underfall. |
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The water's edge is closer than you think, |
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Surface tension falling as the air is taken in. |
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Beneath the walls all light has gone, |
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Like the passage of a mine whose seam is unknown. |
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He worked each drift by hand alone, |
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Sand and water and blood and stone. |
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He hadn't much of a story to tell |
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Just how he stopped the walls from falling. |
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Making a stand made solid ground |
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Two worlds apart, |
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The people say their Sunday prayers. |
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Music fills the vaulted space, |
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The organ covers up the hammer falls. |
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But the water's edge is closer than you think. |
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You could see it in his staring eyes, |
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The dripping shell, |
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The lower parts of Hell are just beneath you. |
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He hadn't much of a story to tell, |
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Just how he stopped the wall from falling down. |
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Making a stand made solid ground. |