After all these implements and text designed by intellects
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So vexed to find evidently there's just so much that hides
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And though the saints of us divine in ancient feeding lines
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Their sentiment is just as hard to pluck from the vine
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I'm trying hard not to pretend
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Allow myself no mock defense
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Step into the night
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Since I dont have the time nor mind to figure out
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The nursery rhymes that helped us out and make a sense of our lives
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The cruel uneventful state of apathy releases me
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I value them but I won't cry if the time was wiped out
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I'm trying hard not to give in
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Battened down to fair the wind
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Read my head, at least pretend
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Allow myself no mock defense
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Step into the night...
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Mercy's eyes are blue
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When she places them in front of you
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Nothing holds a roman candle to
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The solemn warmth you feel inside
|
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There's no measuring of it
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As nothing else is love
|
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I'll try hard not to give in
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Battened down to fair the wind
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Read my head, at least pretend
|
Allow myslef no mock defense
|
Step into the night...
|
|
Mercy's eyes are blue
|
When she places them in front of you
|
Nothing really holds a candle to
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The solemn warmth you feel inside of you
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-----------------
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Saint Simon
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The Shins |