It came to our coast the wind of needles and sand
The end of our street has lost its head in my hand
Tossed in that black november feeling and boom
The tower gave in to its poor stealing too soon
Your luck , your luck
Your poor luck has turned
Walk on, walk on
to the bright side the loss is learned
Your luck , your luck
Your poor luck has turned
Walk on, walk on
to the bright side the loss is learned
The pedestals to which we hold
all must fall
don't built upon
The pedestals to which we hold
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all must fall
don't built upon
the pedestals
the pedestals
all must fall