Descending The White Mountain by Young & In The Way
the sound of drums and rising horns pressed on our backs / we've moved through
sand against a wind that carries nothing / my words must be meaningless against
your breath / show me your celestial face and let me judge thee / you are
what's wrong with us / you are the blight / you are the ruin in all of us / you
are the stealer of hearts / gaping breaths / and tear-soaked smiles / you are
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