| Here I am back from the big dream
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| Without messages of hope
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| As usual I bring back the fruits
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| Forgotten in the lives gone by
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| Lived in few moments
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| Difficult even to remember
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| To every memory a hope is bound
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| Shattering when recalled
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| To every hope many lives are bound
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| Some ending up without hope
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| To every life an essence is bound
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| Fed by the fire of life
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| To every fire is destined a spring
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| Which dies while quenching the fire
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| Oh reality, which within a hair from madness
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| Dance in spite of time dying
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| Take it far away from your facade
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| And give everything you have
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| To the man you have always been
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| And still would like to be
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| It‘s a strange light, almost a magical one
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| Which carried in the dark
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| Becomes as important as the wing beating of wounded swallow
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| I find myself here again with the
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| Same plucked daisies
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| Looking through the window of time
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| From here I don‘t feel cold, don‘t hear any noise
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| But I can‘t even smell the perfume of joy
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| It is night but there‘re people watching people
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| The dark is black and they all seem blind
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| Trampling on themselves, killing one another
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| They all seem similar, but they are not
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| They all have a different living space
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| They all defend this space fighting
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| I don‘t know what really is, I don‘t know
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| I have recognized many of them
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| It‘s the space of shame and faults
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| It‘s the space of misplaced dreams
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| It‘s the space of dreams coming true
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| It‘s the space where the bar starts with G
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| And suddenly the solo begins in a sound
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| Becomes familiar as if known for many years
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| Like an old king born at the end of January
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| I suffer from lack warmth
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| I feel the coldness of indifference
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| I listen to the peculiar in my breathing
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| And smile as I was told
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| Turning myself into a distant icon
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| I face this awakening as a new challenge
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| Live today as if it was tomorrow
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| This makes me think a lot to yesterday
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| And yesterday was
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| Only a dream |