To kiss every fever away?
There is truth that's hiding
Behind every wall that surrounds us.
Why is it impossible now to know?
(Is this the way to understand?)
Louder than fear of waking up
The ink will pour an answer
In children's handwriting.
If all words are cameras,
And a language made of film.
We'll cut every piece into order.
We'll climb halfway to God.
Why is it impossible now to know?
(Is this the way to understand?)
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