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Tiny Ruins
she ll be coming round
Like a brightly painted one,
Freed from the turning of the wheel,
Her mane dancing in the wind,
Eyes fiery as the sun,
Hooves bounding across the fields,
Her body is a river flowing down,
She'll be coming âround,
She'll be coming âround the bend,
She'll be coming âround.
Going âround a mountain is a lovely thing to do.
Lizards fleeing, hearts beating, as in an old cartoon.
A mountain is a lovely cold thing to surround one
looking to understand.
Will she be coming âround?
Will she be coming âround the bend?
Will she be coming âround?
No more relying on.
No more relying on.
No more relying on.
That old free will might be a myth,
but I'm gonna try and get me some.