| Exposed with hands as empty, as the opposite space,
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| Crawlingly we move to where the final station lies.
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| To whom is the debt that we are forced to pay,
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| Real faces dare to appear only, when we turn away.
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| Truth reveals itself … — reveal yourself !
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| A face ordained to serve the hypocrites,
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| We know the masks, the artificial smiles … -
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| Mind’s black eyes should break the lies.
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| Distorted pictures are all trans/parent to us,
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| Phantasmagoria, such a useful weapon;
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| Ineffectual against us … -
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| Enemies with the knowledge of truth.
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| Truth makes me sick … — what a wretched play.
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| Paralysed by flesh and bone … -
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| Condemned to vegetate,
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| Condemned to stay alone.
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| Helplessly we are escaping, we’re clinging to … -
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| Stranded at the shores … oh, beloved infamous side.
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| Our distress in perfection, trials and tribulations … -
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| Preferring our pain, we’ll stay and die. |