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The stainless clouds go mounting
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boats of the spirit are burning
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O, my scouring eye
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a mental cocktail has tiled my forehead
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And I will sing, waiting for the gift of sound and vision
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After all, there’s no need
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I watch a cloud sailing over us.
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no one wants its sanity
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The days and equally the weeks elapse
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Well life has some risks. Love is one. Terrible risks.
