| Hidden in shadows of light, when the curtain’s pulled
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| looked at with eyes sayings all, about direfulness
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| Should have preferred the comfort of nondisclosure
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| Slayed by pre-existence
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| Sweetheart, come here, touch me, I’m still me the making of lies is not all to decline
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| I’ve been there
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| I’ve touched it don’t neglate my mind, do trust it what’s sacred to you has been put through my spine
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| Waiting for the verdict inwrought with secrecy
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| generative thoughts, from another dying bred:
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| All we see and all seem is but a dream
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| and darkness weaves with many shades
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| Sector senseless, your stagnant
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| Unabashed
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| Illdisposed
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| a shapeless ghost convoking me Inside the church of nonbelievers I find myself
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| peacedecievers, my private hell
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| All the answers layed down to me by higher power showing ways to victory
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| Deficient as a heathen, in terms of fortitude
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| singing out the dirge relieving me for you
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| All we know just goes to show our inner glow
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| and darkness weaves with many shades
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| sector senseless, your stagnant
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| Her gracious smile at mine
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| Sweetheart, come here, touch me, I’m still me the making of lies is not all to decline
|
| I’ve been there
|
| I’ve touched it don’t neglate my mind, do trust it what’s sacred to you has been put through my spine |