| Disc 1 | ||||||
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1. |
| 3:59 |
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| 2. |
| 6:18 |
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| 3. |
| 3:11 |
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| 4. |
| 3:57 |
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| 5. |
| 1:45 |
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| 6. |
| 3:14 |
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| 7. |
| 2:47 |
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| 8. |
| 5:32 |
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| 9. |
| 1:10 |
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| 10. |
| 2:49 |
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| 11. |
| 2:00 |
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| 12. |
| 2:47 |
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| 13. |
| 3:33 |
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A patch of red-orange iodine
moves into a clotted sky Don't give in just yet A group in service uniforms stand outside a wooden door she's laughing, "it's over... time has been strange, oh..." last things last is not enough, you can't accept this Don't give in just yet I hope that last things last past these first charms these pale charms I hope that last things last a hook or a flake to hold on so you don't break |
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| 14. |
| 2:18 |
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| 15. |
| 3:39 |
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| 16. |
| 2:13 |
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| 17. |
| 2:38 |
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| 18. |
| 6:05 |
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I was thinking about it again the other day
I'm not sure of I can't remember the name It was down the street from my apartment and I used to go by there pretty often once a month or so It was set back from the street by a courtyard garden with a winding path a stone gazebo and four or five trees It had beautiful tall windows and red stone walls I never went inside It was clear to me that I should keep it as it was in my imagination: the most peaceful place |
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| 19. |
| 2:28 |
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