| A disposition to turn blind eyes to atrocity
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| Juxtaposition of dissonance and apathy
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| Aging
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| Old ways are set aflame
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| Racing
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| Into a shallow grave
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| Placed in position to veer away from reality
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| Dismal, abyssal, and empty is this destiny
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| Deepening sleep that dreams for fear of waking into hell
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| And reaping seeds that never bloom in dry, compacted soil
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| The channels open wherein fleets speed into newer worlds
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| To lay out fresh foundations of ideas to grow and build upon
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| Thought channels open, mastering emotion and control
|
| Of impulse, seeking wisdom cultivates the means to open
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| The door that closes on fingers too weak to push and hold it
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| Ajar is the same that stands and separates the past from the future to come
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| No use of wits, but pounding fists to render bloody, rotten pulp
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| Out of the hands that once commanded great respect from the folk
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| Who shape the lore, the stories dying to be told of people greater
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| Than the cowards of the times that went before
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| The door stays closed
|
| The door stays closed
|
| The channels open wherein fleets speed into newer worlds
|
| To lay out fresh foundations of ideas to grow and build upon
|
| Thought channels open, mastering emotion and control
|
| Of impulse, seeking wisdom cultivates the means
|
| To open the door
|
| To open the door |