| You’re a cold and violent wind
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| You’re an enemy amongst a sea of friends
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| Who will not soon forget your face
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| You’re a worm inside a bird
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| You’re the voice that calls for help that’s never heard
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| You linger on your words
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| What to say?
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| You’re a creek in need of rain
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| You’re the showers that came just a day too late
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| The drought that dried the lake
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| Hey, hey
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| But look what you have done
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| Do you see what you’ve become?
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| You communicate and it’s already begun
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| You’re the dead fur on a coat
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| You’re the antidote that can but won’t be sold
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| The cough inside a cold, no, no
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| You’re the emptiness in black
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| You’re the stolen gold inside a robbers sack
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| Who will not give you back, no, no
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| But look what you have done
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| Do you see what you’ve become?
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| You communicate and it’s already begun
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| You’re the ghost inside this room
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| You’re the soul who lost its way, we must assume
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| And you won’t be leaving soon |