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I wouldn't call it dark, one spade, three spades
I wouldn't call it light either, four spades pass, oh
Oh, there go all my coins
There's someone at the door, what was that?

There's water nearby, I can tell
Drop down to or pass on by?
Pass on by and after the meeting they asked me
If I would like to become the conductor of their choir

I couldn't believe it, isn't it fantastic?
It's not art, it's self-defense it, it captures him
He has to capture it back, it's a power struggle, self-defense
It's not art, not art, are these your coins? Oh, yeah

Did you sit down? Are you cold? No, I'm cold
I mean, yes, grainy, I was thinking of something else
Pretty cold, no, don't sound like you're reading
It just sort of say it

There are mountains nearby, like you're moving through the night
I can tell and it's grainy, I can hear the coins dropping on them
Drop down to or pass on by?
Pass on by has nothing to do with the church
Because it is a choir from the church

But they say it doesn't matter
We sing other songs as well beauty without scrutiny
That's a true definition of it, I could tell it was beautiful
Before I even saw it and I pressed through

The tourists swimming, swimming through
The freezing pins to see and I couldn't see you
Could say one more silent something
Pressing through the graininess of night

I'm really longing forward to see you
Now, let the music play for a while
Grainy, grainy, this time I remembered to say I love you

And then we moved through a dark valley
And then up into the sky and I said, look, look
But there was not a speck to be seen
But there's water nearby

There is a man, standing in a field
Leans on his hoe, stares down the furrows
Counts on his fingers, one more endless flight
Of the inarticulate soul that he borrows

Vladimir, Vladimir, standing in the field
Till he lines his sight along the furrows
Waiting for the, waiting for the
Waiting for the flight

Set against the fading light
Waiting for his hand to put the hoe down
Waiting for the, waiting for the
Waiting for the flight
I wouldn't call it dark, one spade, three spades   I wouldn't call it light either, four spades pass, oh   Oh, there go all my coins   There's someone at the door, what was that?      There's water nearby, I can tell   Drop down to or pass on by?   Pass on by and after the meeting they asked me   If I would like to become the conductor of their choir      I couldn't believe it, isn't it fantastic?   It's not art, it's self-defense it, it captures him   He has to capture it back, it's a power struggle, self-defense   It's not art, not art, are these your coins? Oh, yeah      Did you sit down? Are you cold? No, I'm cold   I mean, yes, grainy, I was thinking of something else   Pretty cold, no, don't sound like you're reading   It just sort of say it      There are mountains nearby, like you're moving through the night   I can tell and it's grainy, I can hear the coins dropping on them   Drop down to or pass on by?   Pass on by has nothing to do with the church   Because it is a choir from the church      But they say it doesn't matter   We sing other songs as well beauty without scrutiny   That's a true definition of it, I could tell it was beautiful   Before I even saw it and I pressed through      The tourists swimming, swimming through   The freezing pins to see and I couldn't see you   Could say one more silent something   Pressing through the graininess of night      I'm really longing forward to see you   Now, let the music play for a while   Grainy, grainy, this time I remembered to say I love you      And then we moved through a dark valley   And then up into the sky and I said, look, look   But there was not a speck to be seen   But there's water nearby      There is a man, standing in a field   Leans on his hoe, stares down the furrows   Counts on his fingers, one more endless flight   Of the inarticulate soul that he borrows      Vladimir, Vladimir, standing in the field   Till he lines his sight along the furrows   Waiting for the, waiting for the   Waiting for the flight      Set against the fading light   Waiting for his hand to put the hoe down   Waiting for the, waiting for the   Waiting for the flight