| Raise up the ghosts of the dead
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| I won’t die like them
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| Push past the point of raw emotion
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| I will breathe
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| Exist with a broken spirit
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| I will die complete
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| Ignore what the angels say
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| Enjoy that special place where the demons speak to me
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| I won’t pick out the lining of my coffin yet
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| Unless I am sure that color satin is me
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| Better yet go with crushed velvet
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| That way I’ll be damn sure to enjoy eternity
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| My daily life writes the eulogy
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| Engraved on tombstone diaries
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| Laid to rest with the passing of time
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| Seems to me that even love can die
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| And the rituals, that fade away
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| And the roses that cease to be laid
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| And to me it clearly appears that
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| We’re already one foot in
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| A very shallow grave
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| I will love with passion
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| You live like you’re dead
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| I will love with passion
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| You live like you’re dead
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| I will love with passion
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| As each day dies, are we living on to the next
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| Or passing on in the twilight
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| As each day dies, are we living on to the next
|
| Or passing on in the twilight
|
| As each day dies, are we living on to the next
|
| Or passing on in the twilight |