We are the blood inside the man, rivers flowing to and from
The mouth of the mighty ghost, to the eyes of the setting sun.
Its heart to beat for the land the sky, and things that go unseen
Due time may we come to know, to see these things we do not see.
My love, she walks a tight rope.
If she falls, she’ll fly, I know this to be true.
But if she reaches the other side, she’ll climb even higher
Than the crescent moon.
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