| Here in this severance we’re calmly incomplete
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| We’ve always tried so hard to keep emotion from our sleeves
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| No small change in a paper cup no hint of deity to promise Eden
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| Who’ll shout our names in marble halls for everyone to hear?
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| While hollow masses plot the course of grace so insincere
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| Seems everyday they print the names of those who tried to make a change
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| Who’s next in line to try?
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| The deaf fall back to making claims to immortality
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| By congregating, playing games designed to drag your days away
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| Is there anyone real, is there anyone real who feels right to be here?
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| In this concrete lie
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| While the sea is so cold
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| We leave the toys on the shelf
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| Try to kiss through the snow
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| And as the callous grow, the mild remain in here alone
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| If the cuts should fall from the air would the lines still hang somehow?
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| Could the walls regain in pride after all has dared to transpire?
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| Here in this severance were calmly incomplete
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| While the sea is so cold
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| We leave the toys on the shelf
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| Try to kiss through the snow
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| And as the callous grow
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| They bow down in droves
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| To the loudest throne
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| And we hide as the uniformed clone |