Royal Safari

de Otta Orchestra

A room of ivory, walls too tall
No door, no key, no sound at all

What is owned, is never free
What is held, will cease to be

A hand that clutches, turns to dust
The tighter grasp, the faster rust

What is owned, is never free
What is held, will cease to be

A hand that clutches, turns to dust
The tighter grasp, the faster rust

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