| First breath following wakes of the
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| Palms pressed, brushed on my arm and then
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| Wave stretched sending me off to descend
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| Leading me into the bend
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| Keep pulsing my hand to the beat of you
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| Shapeless hiss hanging over the
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| Mixes of midnight and twilight
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| It passes, dims to make space and suspend
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| While she’s singing her swan song again
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| It got stuck in my head as the sound of you
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| In the night, we will celebrate cyclical spin
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| As we ritually send off the fire at both ends
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| Yet I’m blanketed, wet with the thought in my head
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| I don’t know what I want what I want’s where I’ve been
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| The kind of thing that hangs inside a moment
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| A kiss of good that’s temperate and golden
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| That permeates the surface of the woven
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| And seeps into the piece of you inside of my head
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| Goodness, present and hallowed
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| Is thanking walls of the shallow
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| Embankments for flowing in over the
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| Ranks of soldiering messes of
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| Dayglow blades scorched by hovering halos
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| Washing away until I don’t even cringe at the thought of you
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| In the light of the day, stabilize and reset
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| And then burn in the image until I can’t forget
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| And end ceaselessly speaking until Nothing is unsaid
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| I don’t know what I want what I want is where I’ve been
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| In the night will you rest your head into my hands
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| Will you disrupt this pattern from starting again?
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| If I ask you for Nothing will Nothing there stand?
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| I don’t know what I want, what I want’s where I’ve been
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| I don’t know what I want, what I want’s where I’ve been
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| I don’t know what I want, what I want’s where I’ve been
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| I don’t know what I want, what I want’s where I’ve been
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| And Oh, the resonant calm comes hard
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| And hums off the walls of the block uncarved
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| And it’s new, but I don’t know what to do
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| With the sight of you brimming
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| The sight of you brimming
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| The sight of you
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| The sight of you brimming |