| On this fall mourning
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| Leaves are creeping and dreary
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| I scowl at this landscape
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| Desperately, where a thousand
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| Faces is hidden, but for Wise Men
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| Would this infernal and fantastic
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| Noise charge at the edge?
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| Or do my shameful thoughts
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| Smile upon you?
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| I can feel, I can touch, I can hear
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| I can taste and I can see…
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| My senses are trustworthy
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| Oh Thee, blind friend and enemy
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| May this veil vanish in the haze
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| And judge life as it is. |
| No, don’t be so
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| Sad, breathe, deliverance looks like death!
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| Should this clownish and deadly role
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| Remain sunk in the depth of our soul?
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| Or maybe my bitter feelings
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| Are leading to torture…
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| I can feel…
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| I am tired of all those false illusions
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| Freezing step by step… I am sick of all
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| Those arficial backgrounds, unsincere
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| And speechless, filled with venom
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| I can feel…
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| May God drag them away rather
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| Than believe in those chains |