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When a room becomes an altarand what beast that must existit flies with music from our lipsand steals a kiss and blows itout into the mistwhere castles stand on cliffsand cobbled streets they wind and driftand moods are made and set but shiftthis place where skies are lowand birds are big |
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We went to sleep in dayand woke again the same daywe have learned to cheat the timeand find the hoursthat the clocks cannot defineas |
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I looked up from that stage |
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I felt the thing that had been made |
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And how it raged |
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And how it raged |
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How to explain? |
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Something makes me howland shiver to the coreah outside if it was rainingthen inside there'd be a stormwe've got a pair of hands for climbingand a pair of knees to springand a pair of balls for strengthand a pair of lungs to singand these simple chordsthat say: music is the language of us all |
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To write these songs is to be writtenah the chorus always knowswhat is in storeand what is more the thing that sings usis the thing that makes us roar |
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I felt that beast 'kisso my neckwe clapped our handsand heard them spreadthere was a trumpet and a calla pack of |
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Spaniards screamed for moremusic is the language of us allmusic is the language of us allmusic is the language of us allmusic is the language of us all |
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I find it hard to speak emotionalcos these things are the things thatcan't be saidand when it's struck it strikesthe memory from our headsonce |
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I wrote to play'sto be immortal for a nightand despite the unknown hourssomething happenswhen the light turns out the lightsthen we fade and yawnto music that's the language of us all |