. . .
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still protecting the magic feather
holding tight to a supporting crutch
writing scripts on worn out leather
still waiting on a divine touch
try to ride on waves of activity
in every direction
you're the center and you're always free
in every direction
feeling safe enough to abandon the void
ban the zero, ban the noise
quiet sounds picked up and dissected
all faint shadows reflected
try to ride on waves of activity
in every direction
you're the center and you're always free
in every direction
. . .
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droning chords and distant bells
humming over empty shells
holding on tight onto a dead sky
nomadic moves across a lawn
step by step into the dawn
holding on tight onto a dead sky
turn a deaf ear no matter what they might say
always, always
turn a deaf ear pushing you further away
always
always, always, always
droning chords and distant bells
to what's been over since the fall
holding tight to what's been felt
holding on tight onto a dead sky
turn a deaf ear no matter what they might say
always, always
turn a deaf ear pushing you further away
always
always, always, always
. . .
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we've got our rope and summit
got our rope and summit
but we need to wake up
baby wake up
unmasking your fears
one by one see them disappear
into the fog down below
slipping is fine
as long as you don't fall
still in the quiet morning breeze
swaying gently in unsuspecting dreams
clues of a gathering storm
it's time to wake up
time to move on
. . .
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she feels she needs to leave
when the fields are all covered in frost
and the dreams begin to breathe
opening the partly open locks
while the others start to disagree
on returning to rough and moving grounds
and if I should come to be relieved
would it be without you
she feels she needs to leave
to avoid a messy aftermath
alone between lines of anguished needs
rearranged to allow a newborn path
while the others start to disagree
on returning to rough and moving grounds
and if I should come to be relieved
would it be without you
. . .
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blinking lights are guiding you away
static voices telling you to stay
curvy roads will lead you through the night
cranky figure tells you it's alright
hiding failures
days of plans out to the east and back
no one will ever know
. . .
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if you weren't told about any divinity
if someone showed you our fallibilities
if you weren't told about the trinity
would you still know what in the world created all this
wouldn't you
like to figure out
what's pulling the strings
did you know about varying degrees of free will
compatible with senseless building blocks
did you know of adaptive or emergent properties
how a lump of grey is making you talk
now wouldn't you
like to figure out
what's making you howl
ill equipped to deal with infinities
never getting past the anthropic principles
ill equipped to deal with probabilities
can't help assigning intentions to all kinds of things
wouldn't you
like to figure out
what's pulling your strings
now we could still talk about moral responsibility
we could still talk about our common human goals
what leads to happiness what leads to suffering
what leads to exuberance and flourishing of the soul
but it would help
to figure out
. . .
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running up the hill with a new lit love
pass a silver lining and then a white dove
caught up in first names all colors but blue
mirrors right and left unambiguous clues
surrounding everything a thin white smoke
rings of ornaments out of leaves and fine strokes
helplessly engaged in a game with no end
sweet and bitter taste webs following a trend
sweet and bitter taste
immediate and steep lifted crossing roads
repetition will displace all eventual codes
converging heavily to a systems offshoot
unfold into a tree redirected hard root
sweet and bitter taste
. . .
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what's in your hand
you're pinned down to routines
elevate and leave
a flickering screen
where nothing is compromised
nothing is lost
when everything is realised
nothing is crossed
but don't let it pass
don't get locked in
everything starts
way from within
where nothing is compromised
nothing is lost
when everything is realised
nothing is crossed
but don't let it pass
. . .
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relieved whenever life is out of red
but old scars force you down in defensive pose
dark blue skies always tumbling over you
connect all disparate dots and label them as true
you're straying off point
through a fixed kaleidoscopic view
narrowing the field
without adding anything new
intuitive stories aren't easy to unlearn
only collective peaks remain
dark blue skies always tumbling over you
just repeat old fables until they feel brand new
you're straying off point
through a fixed kaleidoscopic view
narrowing the field
without adding anything new
you're straying off point
and preferring to live a lie
narrowing the field
regress and self-amplify
with nothing new
. . .
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. . .
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along the quiet narrow streets
canals are still in high tide
whatever needs to be will be
when there is nothing left to hide
whatever remains will set you free
a crater left as a divide
all of the memories will return
in the sleep like shallow scars
whatever remains will set you free
a crater left as a divide
there will soon be time to meet them all again
for once at eye level and for once as friends
there will be time
time to return
. . .
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