To meet those rosy slopes,
And explode into them
Before they erode
The failing time flattens out
Like the optimism of the old,
Whose tribulation has become rosy.
My star could crest
Parabolic
Over the etched stream
And it's etching.
With a longing upward and out, To meet those rosy slopes, And explode into them Before they erode The failing time flattens out Like the optimism of the old, Whose tribulation has become rosy. My star could crest Parabolic Over the etched stream And it's etching. Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
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