It's four past the shaking hands and the house is shouting and the wide ocean's smile is two mountains away If the burning laughter refracts out the window and too many threads are pulled and leaves a mark on your night as red as Shanghai in Autumn Moon If the frozen to soar north against the wind and stare across this great wide land with faith and feather You'll know I'll be there If I'm drowning serenely and the browning and the torn picture of your unshakeable smile breathes life into my eyes I'll always be seeing you When the brush is out of paint and we stroke the gaps full of silence and restraint and the canvas starts to peel that's when, thats when, I'll take your hand.
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