| Running from grace to grave
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| Turning my head away from the sun
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| The earth shakes, splits in two
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| I’m standing in between
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| Which side do I choose?
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| Inside me, thrust to the ground, my spirit awaits sudden death
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| I can’t distinguish real from fake
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| I’m near the absolute, the final stage
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| And though the fangs carve deep
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| Not one single drop but confusion is raining
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| Confusion from inclusion, giving the illusion that we are
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| One perfect struggle between fear and courage
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| The scale won’t tip 'til one of us leaves
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| Confusion from inclusion, giving the illusion that we are one
|
| Running from grace to grave
|
| Turning my head away from the sun
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| Last step, I falter
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| I spread my wings and I fly
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| My journey has just begun
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| I take off and I feel the pressure to make it alone in this world
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| And when I fall astray I remind myself what you have said
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| I gather my strength and I seek my way back
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| But I don’t see the fire
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| Burning my wings
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| I drop to the ground |