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In the codex of memory the foundation the basement floor the contraband we carry around in our heads the empirical raw material and after all I'm a surveyor's son trying to make sense of the same warped projections reality redacted to our needs a human artifice on physical space and after all I'm a woman's son trying to stay right in a world made for sons a privileged recognition to lift my feet from the dregs of all that's passed there's never a second chance to do what should be done there's never a second chance to do what should be done Aus Songtexte Mania