Pain day sky beauty die black joy
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love empty day life die pain passion
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joy black day hate beauty die life
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joy ache empty day pain die love
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passion joy black light
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And if God is dead what am I,
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a fleck of dirt on the wing of a fly
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hurtling to earth
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through a hole in the sky
|
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And if Warhol's a genius, what am I,
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a speck of lint on the penis of an alien
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buried in gelatin
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beneath the sands of Venus
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Time sun hurt trust peace dark rage
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sad white rain sun anger hurt soft
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trust night rage rain white hope dark
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sacred sun time trust hurt rage anger
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rain white light
|
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And if a bird can speak, who once was a dinosaur,
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and a dog can dream; should it be implausible
|
that a man might supervise
|
the construction of light
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the construction of light
|
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Pain day sky beauty black die joy
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love empty time sun hurt trust peace
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dark rage sad white rain hate anger
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hope sacred passion life night ache soft
|
light
|
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-----------------
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The ConstruKction Of Light
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King Crimson |