we all come around - least of these lyrics
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oh the lamps, the ones that burn so bright; how they shine
tell me which oil’s right
who owns the lamps and will know just how they’ll burn?
i’ve made them mine; i should get a turn
time can move both fast and slow but it has a mind of its own
whatever speed i hope it will choose is never the one it wants to use
we all come around
and if i serve two masters, how will i know which one is in my heart while the other is on my shoulder?
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