It is clear and blue, sky today
But now metal does clang, clang away,
And there's humming all over our land
And they trees are in soot - they are sad.
Just like crosses the smoke and ash stand,
On the rooftops the cranes don't make nests.
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How I'll see it now, how I'll breathe it in?
Air is tight before the lightning, tight and choking.
How I'll hear it all today, oh how I will sing.
>From the fairy tales the prophet birds are singing.
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When waters of a flood that swept the planet
Returned once more into the ocean bed
>From foam of a departing ocean current
Love climbed so quietly upon the land
And disappeared in air before its time -
And for it there are sixteen hundred times.
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I'm in the light, open to every eye -
I do as I do often; like an icon
I come up to a microphone; today
It's more like I'm approaching a cannon.
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By the edge, near the precipice, at the very limit,
I am beating at my horses with my arm, a whiplash in it.
I'm not getting enough air - drinking wind, the fog imbibing,
And I scent with deadly rapture: I am dying, I am dying!
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