ItÂŽs tricky when You feel someone Has done something On your behalf
ItÂŽs slippery when Your sense of justice Murmurs underneath And is asking you:
How am I going to make it right?
With a palm full of stars I throw them like dice Repeatedly I shake them like dice And throw them on the table Repeatedly Repeatedly Until the desired constellation appears And I ask myself:
How am I going to make it right? How am I going to make it right? How am I going to make it right? And you hear How am I going to make it right?
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