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Thrice
circles
We talk too much, we talk in circlesTill weâ??re all spinning round reaching for rings on this merry-go-round
Scenery spins, we call it progress
Iâ??ve seen this all before
When allâ??s said done we wake up on the floor
We set sail with no fixed star in sight
We drive by Braille and candle light
Weâ??re building towers with no foundation
Just stacking stone on stone
Whatever it takes, Mix our mortar with bones
True progress means
matching the world to the vision in our heads
We always change the vision instead
(Colaboração: fotolog.com/sobrethi)