Dreams, inconsistent angel things.
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Horses bred with star-laced wings.
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But it's so hard to make them fly, fly, fly.
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These wings beat the night sky 'bove the town.
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One goes up and one goes down.
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And so the chariot hits the ground, bound, bound.
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We have forgotten (don't try to make me fly)
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How it used to be (I'll stay here, I'll be fine).
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How it used to be (don't go and let me down)
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How it used to be (I'm starting to like this town).
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When wings beat the night sky 'bove the ground,
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Will I unwillingly shoot them down
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With all my petty fears and doubts, down, down?
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We have forgotten (am I in love with this?)
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How it used to be (my constant broken ship)
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How it used to be (don't go, I'll shoot you down),
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How it used to be (I'm starting to like this town).
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-----------------
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We Have Forgotten
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Sixpence None The Richer |