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I come to you all dressed in sound |
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With bluebirds stripping wires to the ground |
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Connected to a time machine |
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That will not power down |
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Set the crosshairs back on one |
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You said we'd only die here in a sun |
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The way your headstone shines |
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I only wish that it was mine |
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So set the crosshairs back on one |
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And nail the loop that brings the second run |
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Passed the wished-on charms |
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And through the lens back to your living arms |
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This time machine won't power down and this time machine won't power down |
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And still the crosshairs rest on one |
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And still you rest there in the morning sun |
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And still I fumble through the pages of constructions on the ride |
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I like the blown-out sound you've found |
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I like the way it feels here coming down |
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The way your headstone shines |
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I only wish that it was mine |