|
|
Running without aim
|
Through the razor weeds
|
That only reach my knees
|
And when I'm lying in the grey sleep
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I don't know how to walk the boards
|
I open my eyes, and look at the floor
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And now I don't see you anymore
|
|
There is no choice, we make the point
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To counteract a threatening hand
|
Close my hold
|
As we near the atmosphere
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Burning From The Inside
|
| Bauhaus |
