| I am broken and cold, restless and low
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| I am a child alone, lost in the road
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| I am broken and cold, restless and low
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| I am a body without a soul
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| Broken, I feel like my soul has been lifted
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| For twenty-five years I’ve been drifting
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| A shade so cold, a heart of stone
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| To the darkness I call my own
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| I am screaming: «Am I more than just flesh and bone?»
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| You don’t want me to say what I’ve wanted to say
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| It would unleash a hell, worst than you’ve ever known
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| It wasn’t ever meant to end in this way
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| We kept our heads below, the art of letting go
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| It wasn’t even meant to feel like this
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| No, we kept our heads below, the art of letting go
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| I, I am knotted, I am twisted, silence, not a whisper
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| Mouth sewn shut, you never know who is listening
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| Haunted, so many things I could never say
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| For fear of destroying all the progress we’ve made
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| It wasn’t ever meant to end in this way
|
| We kept our heads below, the art of letting go
|
| It wasn’t even meant to feel like this
|
| No, we kept our heads below, the art of letting go
|
| I am broken and cold, restless and low
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| I am a body without a soul |