from the lying mirror to the movement of stars
everybody looking for who they are
those who know don’t have the words to tell
and the one with the words don’t know to well
could be the famine
could be the feast
could be the pusher
could be the priest
always ourselves we love the least
that’s the burden of the angel/beast
birds of paradise – birds of prey
here tomorrow, gone today
cross my forehand, cross my palm
don’t cross me or i’ll do you harm
could be the famine
could be the feast
could be the pusher
could be the priest
always ourselves we love the least
that’s the burden of the angel/beast
we go crying, we come laughing
never understand the time we’re passing
kill for money, die for love
whatever was God thinking of?
could be the famine
could be the feast
could be the pusher
could be the priest
always ourselves we love the least
that’s the burden of the angel/beast
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