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If I Am Dead Lyrics

Those dying breeds
Gather beneath
Old fallen trees;
Bits of leaves.

And if only we'd known.
May see that tomorrow.

Oh, carry me:
Four hands, eight feet;
Through crowded streets.
Ticker tape on me.

And if only I'd known.
May see that tomorrow.

Burn my remains;
My stuff, the same.
Bury my name.
It's yours now, anyway.

They see that tomorrow.
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