| These walls became a cage
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| Scratched with delicate wounds that mark a dying day
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| The scraps of breath I take belong to someone else
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| The dirt is all I know
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| Chained in line with the other sick, forgotten souls
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| Stuck with lies they told and wished they never found
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| What good is fear to a man when he’s lost everything else?
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| Trees need no bark once the core is hollowed out
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| When a mistake is just that, transforming Eden to Hell
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| Such reflection will leave you beside yourself
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| There are days when death would be welcomed as a friend
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| But I’ll live until we meet with my regrets
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| My life of moral decay was bound to damn me to this fate
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| Held in the hands of penance
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| What good are dreams when I wake
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| To find I’m right where I’ll always be even if I don’t belong?
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| There are days when death would be welcomed as a brother sent
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| To soothe a tired friend
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| The easy way extends a hand
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| Leading us to satisfaction earned by fearful men
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| My life of moral decay was bound to damn me to this fate
|
| Held in the hands of penance
|
| What good are dreams when I wake
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| To find I’m right where I’ll always be even if I don’t belong?
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| I’d see these walls in flames
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| I’d have to
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| I’d watch them crumble down to cleanse my sin
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| A second chance to take a life back
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| But it will never come a waste of time |