Far beneath the Red Light Square
Night has paused and there is air
Fallen dream piles lies around
Cotton buds and an indian drum
Play that drum and you are lost
In seasoned illness, filled with rust
Silenced mouth begins to shout
Thoughts we really can be without
No, saddle your crow, we're gone
Gone into the seas of the sun
Saddle your crow, we're gone
Gone into the seas of the sun

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