| The worlds close, cold and threatening
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| They left me no way out, no door anywhere
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| Just these big white walls and their majesty
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| Dripping with anger and hostility
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| They rise in the rigidity of the accuser
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| The steams of your stench hidden behind
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| Your emanations contaminate my senses
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| And enjoy what remains of my damaged soul
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| Suspended over the fascinating space under my feet
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| Waiting for the time I fall
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| My throat hurts as I scream with all my guts but no sound goes out
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| I feel my veins beat on my temples and their rhythm resounds in my head
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| The spotless white of the walls blinds me
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| And crosses my eyelids
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| Time has come to see the end
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| Time has come to tame the whispers beyond the walls
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| The question’s why the consolation
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| The question’s why divine redemption
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| My acts cannot be forgiven
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| Forgotten with neuroleptics absolution
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| These relentless images in my head
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| Of a magnificent and so familiar red
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| This silence I like rocks my grief in these last years
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| No word, no shout, just the silence
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| I’d like to meet the child I was, tell him «I'm sorry for your loss» |