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Outsiders

By the roadside shrine there's a place

Selling bouquets of cellophane

That's where they meet in this desolate place

And the more they see the more they say

Thrown like two winter roses into a broken vaseThey're playing the hand they play

Caught in the game they madeShe puts her faith in the moment

Outsiders

He puts his faith in the moment

OutsidersAnd his clothes are covered in dew

As she writhes in twisted sheets

Feel the pulse and the power of you

And what you see isn't what's underneathThey're playing the hand they play

Caught in the game they madeShe puts her faith in the moment

Outsiders

He puts his faith in the moment

Outsiders

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