| Your touch is dead
|
| As is the life I pursue
|
| Onward I stare into the surreal
|
| My mind dies
|
| As slumber comes for me to heal
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| By binding light I strive to obtain
|
| The pendulum sharpens its axe once again
|
| To fore fill my needs
|
| To embrace my silence is gold
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| Means the loss of motion control
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| Within me hides a dead soul
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| A world of mirrors breaking
|
| I gasp for air no more
|
| As I unleash my impulse
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| My mind clouds
|
| I don’t think their was anything there before
|
| Permanently unconscious
|
| (To turn the abducting faces forevermore) |