Everything

Yesterday I asked you
Where we would be tomorrow
And you said that you didn't know
If there would be one anyway
Yesterday I missed you
Although you'd never seen me
On your way to what you call
Fulfillment in our tongues
I drag my hand right through the wind
As if it was no part of me
As if the trees would drop their leaves
They would be good to cover thee
They would be good to feed the soil
On which we stand so straight
On which we stand so straight
On which we stand so
Everything
Everything has to get burned in a way
Everything
Everything has to get burned in a way
Too many things
Too many things are built on the sand anyway
Too many things
Too many things are built on the sand
Everything
Everything has to get burned in a way
Everything
Everything has to get burned in a way
Too many things
Too many things are built on the sand anyway
Too many things
Too many things are built on the sand
And if the trees would drop their leaves
They would be good to cover thee
They would be good to feed the soil
On which we stand so straight
On which we stand so straight
On which we stand so straight
On which we stand so straight
On which we stand so



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