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It is five to six. The dove is not landing On the edge of my window As it did for the last six months now. I felt that the little bird Was about to take off. Instead of being vampirized By the bat it used to travel with I gave the dove fresh air Until I couldn't breathe myself. The bat was drinking his own blood Bringing down in his fall The little dove and many other birds Drinking their blood Tearing away every little feather Until the naded fowl will crash I gave the dove fresh air Until I couldn't breathe myself. Aus Songtexte Mania