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Tiny Door
Some days must be far from security
Some days must be dready of obscurity
Some days must be far from security
When you walk the path of war, some days must be spunk
So far your chest arbors a beating muscle
So far your legs support your pulsing trunk
No second walse will sing
Kein Vöglein joy will bring
When the music you cannot dance
Stops by that tiny door
You just ignore what for.
You just ignore what for.
