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The Tangent
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Four Last Days
And the water turns to wine
And the wine turns into pills
And the pills turn into games
But the games are just cheap thrills
Beware of the promises of songs
When you know the road ahead can be so long,
And all my anger cannot move
Or even seek to disprove,
The need I have inside me,
For the love I lost, which can never be removed
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