| I wake up, it’s dark
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| It’s cold, but I’m not freezing
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| I don’t know where I am, don’t know how I came here
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| I try to get up, but I’m paralyzed
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| The last snow is melting, it’s march
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| It’s always cold in march, isn’t it?
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| I’m trying hard to remember
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| What happened yesterday, or was it the day before
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| I see blood beside me and on my hands
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| I see your face
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| It’s raining heavier and life is coming back to my body
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| I try to find the moon, but it’s too cloudy
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| I try to move — and I can move
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| I try to make out where I am
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| There’s a lake with silent waves and there are trees
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| I see your body with dislocated limbs
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| And I see your face
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| «My shivering hands vainly try to touch your face
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| Something holds me back approaching your face…»
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| Your eyes are open, are you crying?
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| But these tears are rainwater filling your eyes
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| You don’t move, you don’t answer, you don’t react at all
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| It smells like burnt rubber, I see a car
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| And I remember it was ours
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| And now the fog is clearing
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| Very slowly I begin to understand
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| Begin to understand
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| We wanted to end our lives
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| Of sorrows and agony
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| We wanted to escape
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| And now you’re dead
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| Now you’re dead and I’m alive
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| Why do I live when you’re dead
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| Why should I live when you’re dead |