Break out lungs in ecstacy / the gross physique of devilry says,
"Oh!  When they play the music too slow
my heart falls into the cold / and the ice has come again!"

Take my future, take my hand / Take a turn in the promised land
Host of quadrille, heel of fire / spirals down the steepest spire
The spiral of hope and the noose of the rope and the draw of the blade
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