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Songs are sung by the multitude Rising amoung the curling waves. Pennance for those that dare to sing, Follow forever to their graves. Stepping lightly amoung the throngs Of the people we try to hide. Fearing the wrath of those that know Accepting always the changing tide. So good it feels to ride the tide Accepting whether right or wrong, To never stand for your beliefs Always singing the others song. The masses hide as a tree in the woods With the minorities set aside. Laughed at for their calamaties, With no waves for them to ride. Be so warned of the howling winds That can fell the strongest tree. For if it falls, it takes another Leaving black holes that none can see. The actions of the multitudes Are secreted away among the throng They wear their beliefs as armour, Not really caring whats right or wrong. |