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Sitting steady on the rise
Wind snapping in blue ripples
Feel for this once
Things aren't just passing by
This isn't a silent movie
There isn't a music score
There isn't a neat ending
And you're no audience
Mess, and turmoil await
So, we'll toil & toil
With everyone else
Throwing our lot in
The dreams of utopia past
Flood the present
And I'm sure they didn't
Dream of this