Somewhere there's speaking,
It's already coming in.
Oh, and it's rising at the back of your mind.
You never could get it,
Unless you were fed it -
Now you're here, and you don't know why...
But under skinned knees and the skid marks,
Past the places where you used to learn.
You howl and listen, listen and wait for
The echoes of angels who won't
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