Benedict

Benedict,
You got a lot to say 
There are novels in your brain

Benedict,
Took a walk along your fault line
Now let me show you mine

Behind the turnstile
Under the blushed moonlight
There is a garden 
Waiting for the harvest

Benedict,
When living in your head 
Do you recreate your past?

Benedict,
You know I’m just keeping score
To keep you forevermore

Behind the turnstile
Under the blushed moonlight
There is a garden 
Waiting for the harvest

Oh behind the turnstile 
Under the blushed moonlight
Behind the turnstile


	

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