| «Lifeless and indifferent face on the wall,
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| Who is the fairest one this fall?»
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| I’ve spent a season with the wolves at the door.
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| With dirty magazines, spread out, all across my floor.
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| Some say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree
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| But that’s just a lazy way to dismiss the seed.
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| This seed is looking to put on a few hundred years.
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| And willing to earn them through your blood and your tears.
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| I want you to listen to the sound of my voice
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| And know I was created by chance not by choice.
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| Some may call that the death of the light
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| But I like to call it «Embracing the night»
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| Too many hands are held out to take.
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| Too many hands aren’t prepared to break.
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| Now, for antoher season with the wolves at the door,
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| Hungry and scratching and begging for more.
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| There is a future your eyes may not see.
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| There is a future you may not believe.
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| There is a future that will be here in time.
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| But some won’t make it to sign on that line.
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| I’ve seen an endless sky of ships explode
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| And realized some men will never make it home.
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| We near a time when all of us know.
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| When we find out. |
| Do we really reap what we sow?
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| It will be cold when the rain comes,
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| To lose the tears as they fall.
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| I will be cold to pull a lesser man from a ledge
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| And then and then and then…
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| I want to cast pff the wings of desire.
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| I want be buried in a field of fire.
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| I want to stand up and be twenty feet tall.
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| I want to reach out and feel nothing at all. |