| I am locked up inside a house of solid glass
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| Open to every look of the one’s who pass
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| Moments of fantasy trade with those of void
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| Images of repose, repress the worldly toil
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| I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and dream
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| Is this the land of riches the path to our source
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| Is this the only key to unlock all the doors
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| Or has my fantasy once again fooled me
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| Will the signs I see next fail to free me
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| I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and dream
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| As if I awake from the deepest sleep
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| And as if the road to being seems less steep
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| These glassy walls that have surrounded me
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| Break and give way for a flow of energy
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| Freedom I sought and for which I have paid
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| Strides over my strongly built barricades
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| The self I really am that was once disguised
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| Evolves to the fullest — starts its steady rise
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| Rids the broken pieces of my shattered past
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| It overcomes the fear — weight, I’ve lost at last
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| Now there’s just space endlessly new to me
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| The flash of light enables me to see
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| And my view touches horizons as serene
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| As the source of all that I have ever dreamed |