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The Tragically Hip Miscellaneous As I Wind Down The Pines As I wind down the pines it’s the lines on your face playing on your face Without thinking so much as abandoning thought I went through open country over water meadows streams lakes and wires and roosts in reeds to a nest in the hole of this dead tree. To play without stopping or pause not for silence not for applause not without thinking and thinking’s abandoning thought As I wind down the pines it’s the lines on your face playing on your face |
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