| I plastered all these walls with color
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| I drank your tears watered with wine
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| Contented with this taste of anger
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| Regarding this was mine
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| I tested all in vague proportions
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| I drank your tears like they were mine
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| I dared to speak of new horizons
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| And blinded both your eyes with mine
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| Can you feel it coming?
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| Can you feel it go?
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| Anti Methusalem Syndrome
|
| Misled by an angel
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| I thought I saw the sun bleed
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| Up my throat they crawl
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| To turn in little rumours
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| Infinite temptation
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| Fateful, formless, rare
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| Distant condulation
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| I know whose words they are
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| How dare you speak, or even move
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| Dimorphicly disabled gestures
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| Prophylactic tendencies
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| As bodies need their prostitution
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| My tongue was bent in all directions
|
| Circling motion in slight confusion
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| E-dead spies return in failure
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| Prayer after prayer (just) in case it helps
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| It’s in our kind
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| It’s on my mind
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| It’s pure and holy
|
| It’s what I’ve done…, done to you
|
| Can you see him running?
|
| Can you see his home?
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| Anti Methusalem Syndrome |