| This is a ghost town
|
| Alive with the echoes of failures fled
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| Lit up by shiny faces
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| That parade these streets
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| What used to be Of humility is gone
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| You walk on mounds
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| Of skull and bone
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| Where living is denied
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| I see more movement in decomposition
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| That in those hollow eyes
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| It is the only place I know
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| Where death is most alive
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| It is when truth is turned to lie
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| That death is most alive
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| Set flame to the ensnarers
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| And pierce that ornate shield
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| Branded by what claims you
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| You wear the mark of death
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| Tear from loss and agony
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| A character defined
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| Stripped of all but tragedy
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| What life is left to find
|
| Go now — until there"s nothing left
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| Go now — the dying has begun
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| So I flee from all that is me To hide behind this pale dead face
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| Whatever happened to desire, want and need
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| Whatever happened to integrity
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| Imagination is a curse in all of this
|
| Whatever happened to the ones left behind
|
| This is a ghost town
|
| Bodies dragged through endless streets
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| Go now, to never return
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| I see more pitiful humiliation
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| Than you can ever hide |