| Man watches the world with closed eyes
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| He aspires after the colours of completeness
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| Reaching his hand to the gasping tomorrow
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| And he finds: «All is not the same…»
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| Man wrapped himself in a black gown
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| Rambling in the verdant valleys of eternity
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| Vagrant begs for a coin for his depression
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| Man laughs and goes away
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| UNITY’S INTERLUDE DYES BLIND TOMORROW
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| He picks up fragments from the ground
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| And sells 'em to some ignorant shapes
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| From tears he builds up brooks
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| Where lunacy’s bark boats sail
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| He dispels sorrow with recorder
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| Tones of griefs soar away
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| Pain and pleasure have involved into one
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| But the eye of time has faded
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| Apathy and disgust merged
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| And seas are divided
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| Anticipation is over at last
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| And sunset glow’s brilliancy of colours celebrates it
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| Unity has involved in its cloak
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| Everybody has disappeared in vanity
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| Still there’s footprints in the snow
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| And they lead us up to the north… |