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I can't be so far away from my wasteland I'll never know when I might ambulance or hoist their hearts with my own hands Almost... almost... I heard a faint old age lover I had other ways to help myself By calling out, open up my heart and fall And I blame it all on dust, the art of almost Almost... almost... I hold it up, shake the grade Disobey across the waves, tomorrow I have all the love I can ever ache and I leave the most with you, art of almost Almost... almost... From Letras Mania