Dr. Manhattan - Too Late | Текст песни

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• Dr. Manhattan
• Too Late

While I am standing still, I prefer the stillness here. I am tired of earth, these people, I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.

They claim their labours are to build a heaven yet their heaven is populated with horrors. Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. A clock without a craftsman. It's too late. Always has been, always will be…too late.

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