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Cymbals Eat Guitars - Cold Spring |
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We drove a hundred miles that day |
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To see a Halloween parade |
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Skeletal autumn in Cold Spring |
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Parents holding hands with Pale Death's infants |
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Shivering on the courthouse steps in polyester robes |
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And exposed bone thermals |
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March them down to riverside square |
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Your teeth gnash together as you chew an Excedrin |
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On the way home |
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The empty parkway wound its way back |
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through charred black pine |
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Just like a wormhole |
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Hickory death rattles into stagnant tracts of sky |
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Like warnings whispered |
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Antiphonal stridency that slept for half a century |
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And where are you |
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As lives are punctuated by moons |
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I've never loved you more than when you said |
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"I'm so scared of all the things I risk with kids I never knew existed" |
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Time machine rotors ripping holes over Freehold |
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Constellations rearrange and orbit 'round the steeple of First Presbyterian Church |
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I am Bear Mountain |
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I am entering orbit oh |
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I am Bear Mountain |
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I am entering orbit |
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On the way home |
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The empty parkway wound its way back through charred black pine |
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Just like a wormhole |
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A bridge becomes an island when the ends are disconnected |
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Wind is feedback |
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Antiphonal stridency that slept for half a century |
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And where are you |