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The autumn howled around the heads |
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That hung so slack with lips so red |
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The blooms had withered leaves were shed |
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Tongues stuck in jaws sad clowns parade |
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The crushing whine began its call |
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And pointed fingers at us |
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In Angle Park |
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The lights are dim, the statues grim |
|
In Angle Park |
|
The fountains crack |
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In Angle Park |
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The beaten cry behind white dress |
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The clowns stuck fast upon the mesh |
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While mothers wring their hands of tears |
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The spelling books are in arrears |
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The evil genius hugs his wife |
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As tiles ring with fear of life |
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The window fills with beating hearts |
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Beat on blindly beat it |
|
In Angle Park |
|
The lights are dim, the statues grim |
|
In Angle Park |
|
The fountains crack |
|
In Angle Park |
|
In Angle Park |
|
The lights are dim, the statues grim |
|
In Angle Park |
|
The fountains crack |
|
In Angle Park |