Magistrates dream of plague
Tongues loll in anticipation
You are awake in their darker visions
Drool slips from grining mouths
The plague is forced on us all
Is it there? Are they there?
Shouts of fact abound
But whispers of truth burn through
Is it there? Are they there?
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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