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It was the rocks you liked |
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So much you'd throw them |
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Down into the river's darkness |
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Down from where the trains go flying |
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Your legs hung out |
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Into the air - we'll keep on kicking |
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We're moving but it's never going |
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When we go it's like we're faking |
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Two palms, no sound |
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Closer and closer |
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The beam's width that's between us |
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Gets just a little leaner |
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We ought to fail to see it |
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And if I go to the left |
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And if you move to the right |
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So that we've hit and spilled |
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We've turned it off in the night |
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Between the banks that roll |
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The glass hidden motion |
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Above we go on without knowing |
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The pines control the wild sarcasm |
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To hold us up |
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And time was held |
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Well worth the holding |
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Waste when you try to save |
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Save it and it ends up wasted |
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You know these words |
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Answer we entered |
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The trains won't ride beside us |
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But water moves beneath us |
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And takes away the sense of hearing it all |