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While the king he screams at the likes of us
Her majesty waits at the back of the bus
The stars willingly align
And after all time stays on its own side
Without wings we're gathering
Preparing for the rites of spring
And from the swinging of the axe to the swaying of the hips
It's such a tangled web we weave from the soul to the lips
The time to live is hard in the ticking of the clocks
As you and I make love to the equinox