| I see man is plagued with a moral disease of life
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| Can’t you see that your blind inside
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| Fortunate to give your life
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| I seek life within a buried soul
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| Drying the blood of your soul
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| Broken down and loosing all control
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| Like child
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| This word is born again
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| Into a rusted sea of salt and spoils
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| A broken dream laid to rest in crude blood
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| Like broken arms of the clocks of existence
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| Pointing us beyond a southern cross
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| Past the times of preconcieved nurturings
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| Give yourself unto yourself
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| You are the god of your own individual plane
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| Of existence
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| I see man is plagued with morals loosing life
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| Can’t you see that your blind inside
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| Limit youself and making yourself so blind
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| This is what you call loosing all control
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| The dyes of seperated self ties me to loose my soul
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| You are the god
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| And all that matters in your world
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| A world of bones brittled and battered
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| Smashed into a powder that clouds this vision
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| A vision of a perfect world
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| And that one place
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| The place in which we shall call home
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| The home at rest with the collection of thought
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| A place to rest with no memory
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| Blackened and peacefully cold with ones self
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| We live
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| To Die
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| With no answers
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| The truth must go on
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| So we
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| Can see
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| The lies hidden behind the words
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| In our lives you know there’s so much pain
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| So why do you live at all
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| Some sort of sadistic
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| In this life you know there’s so much hell
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| So why do we live at all
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| Some sort of sadistic
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| Game
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| We live
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| To die
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| With the truth
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| This lifes answers must go on
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| So we
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| Can see
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| Lies hidden behind the words
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| This life shall pay
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| Like the broken clocks hand
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| Of dawn
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| So we
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| Can see |