| A pale cold haze by stealth conceals the path
|
| As lurking shade transforms the day so fast
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| Rich colors fall against the bleak decay
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| Am I the one to pass these waters longing
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| For their living prey?
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| All where I can turn my look is a reign of Mire
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| I cry out but echoes die unborn
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| The dismal life of the Mighty Bogs
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| Shall go on undisturbed at all…
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| Perceive the stuffiness, the swamp’s breathing hard
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| Digesting dreams of those who’re now its part
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| Who’ve been sucked in or maybe jumped themselves
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| They cheat all deaths and never die being dead
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| Let woken be those whose time has passed
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| And the blessed get dressed in their newer flesh
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| Then come to soak my fury up and join
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| To free our world from meanness
|
| No matter those who’re telling you
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| There’s nothing to be awake for
|
| The Mire is enormous but not endless
|
| As it’s born grace
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| And I’ve been aged to find them
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| I’ve spent all my life
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| Searching for finally succeeded
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| Yet after all I’ve been through
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| It seems to me that I am the only one
|
| Who dares to know
|
| …I find the way out…
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| Hear me call from the other side
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| Of the deadly mire’s halls
|
| See I could pass them through
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| And some other will if he wants
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| And all those who were killing me
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| For billion poignant times
|
| Failed again… yet my stars rise to shine
|
| For the last time in these skies… |