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we wanted to stay at—We wanted to get
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Or I live on a thorn on a trellis—
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Crushed hub, they say, a vortex, a black hole
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You stand here there
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Set free, fleeing from the soul gone flying
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When you doubt the world
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in the faces of the officials and the rich
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she turns to gold
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Just imagine!” The sky is relentlessly
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I look out into what feels ancient. It