| June traded me for October
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| Carried me through to the November winds
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| Caves in the ground, though we often slip
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| To look outside with squinting eyes
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| I crawled underneath the weight of all of it
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| As time squeezed out both sides
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| You barely move to lift one of your fingers
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| Just clinch your fist and bend all of them (bend all of them)
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| Aim towards the ground, you cannot miss
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| Or aim high if that’s your bulls-eye
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| Every piece that’s found should not be mis-
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| Taken as one from your pie
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| It’s cool how you are just you (Ooh!)
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| And it’s nice how we can just hang on too (Yeah!)
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| It seems like we don’t lose our youth (Ooh!)
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| And I just can’t see losing you (Ooh!)
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| Born of ice and salt—I'll meet you back there, yeah
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| 'Cause we are foreign travelers
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| Of many dimensions here or there
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| Dormant underground:
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| Like a windblown seed yet sown
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| One millennium ends tomorrow
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| Dust layers the cluttered shelf
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| So many layers of substrate there
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| But here it’s all layers of dust down to the core
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| It’s pretty unfortunate now that
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| It’s only us left none of your precious ores
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| Good shits still mixed with the dust, but oh well…
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| It’s just a fraction of what sinks to the floor
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| As the passing of time aligns
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| With the layers of dust, pieces of us
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| Born to cities of rust under the crust
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| Add another layer of dust
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| All caked with ice and nebulas |