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Ghost Dance Lyrics - Space Is Still The Place - The Bright Light Social Hour

A glowing dawn of crowded eyes 

Each a screaming pulsar 

Wounded knees, dance 'til clean 

The needles in the ghost 

 

Grit, sand, silica 

Demand perfect porcelain 

Distant glimmers' ancient dust 

Begs the flesh to rise 

 

Cut like knives through black exhaust 

A terror in full blossom 

Whitewash dreams, blowing steam 

We have not arrived 

 

Grit, sand, silica 

Ground to dense perfection 

On the outskirts of consciousness 

Together deep inside 

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