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back and forth and back and forth goes the tock of the orange, bland, ambassadorial face of the moon on the grandfather clock. all autumn long, the chafe and jar of dirty bomb we have talked ourselves to death. I swim like a minnow behind my studio window. Our end drifts nearer, the moon lifts, radiant with terror. The state is a diver under a glass bell. ...â? A father's no shield for his child. We are like a lot of wild spiders crying together, but without tears. Aus Songtexte Mania