| Not a sacred place!
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| This place is cursed by God for sure!
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| See them try to kill the pain, blackness fills the mind, decayed
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| Swarming stigma attaches, insane
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| Yesterday, truth despaired, my life, stolen easily
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| Trenched again, unfathomed thoughts, my grave deeply
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| Stone grown, growing in squares, light shines me thru
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| Blindly finding, doubting, death’s riddles, so true
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| (Saxophone by Marcello Balena)
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| Going to the asylum to learn how to die…
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| See them try to kill the pain, blackness fills the mind, decayed
|
| Swarming stigma attaches, insane
|
| Yesterday, truth despaired, my life, stolen easily
|
| Trenched again, unfathomed thoughts, my grave deeply
|
| (Saxophone by Marcello Balena)
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| (Vocals by Karyn Crisis)
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| I fly towards other rooms
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| They all look the same
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| But every single one of them is different
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| By the imprints they project in this astral space
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| They have different voices and different stories
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| Different screams, different micro-cosmos
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| They all reveal the echoes of men who’ve all lost their way, yet remain
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| Their vibrations tell us:
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| Some of them went away, some of them are dead |