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Man, born |
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Locked down by the water |
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Hear the rustle spat out from the corner |
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As we are thrown |
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Right into the arms of the sea. |
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Sheer bliss. |
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The dense cold collides |
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The cliffs loomed up in the distance |
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As they exhale, inhale. |
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We must be born anew |
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To paint our portraits like the way we are |
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We must learn to breathe again |
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To reach the core of patterns in our souls. |
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Maybe we are something we are not |
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It gives us a reason to be |
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The spine of our soulless approach |
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That gives us a reason to die. |
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Grand your light to the sun |
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And turn your back on the shells |
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At the shores, the sea. |
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Sow your seeds into the soil |
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And recall the ideas that we shared |
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In the years that we spent to progress. |
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Oversee to be free, mesmerize |
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And try to embrace the arms that come forth |
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By the days of resurgence stream. |
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Change me |
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Drain all blood from the wounds |
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And sleep your woes, slumbering |
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Shed your skin and swim |
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Right into the arms of the sea. |
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The waves lifting, rising from the oceans |
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The undertow breathes again |
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As we are thrown |
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Right into the arms of the sea. |
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The dense cold collides |
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The cliffs loomed up in the distance |
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As they exhale, inhale. |
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Maybe we are something we are not |
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That gives us a reason to be |
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The spine of our mental approach |
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That gives us a reason to live. |