With the motion of a bird with a broken wing
No place to prey on you for now
Hair-raising prospects and head-toned harmony

When the way is finally found
In the stacks and piles
Of dead promises we keep around

From the grotto haze the days will elevate
Mirror ruination to the daytime
From the bedlam block to the realtime rodeo

When the way is finally found
In the stacks and piles
Of dead promises we keep around

When the way is finally found
In the stacks and piles
Of dead promises that we keep around

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