| At first I see an open wound
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| Infected and disastrous
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| It breathes chaotic catastrophe
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| It cries to be renewed
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| (Please renew me!)
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| Its tears are the color of anger
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| They dry to form a scab
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| To the touch, its stiff and resilient
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| Underneath, the new skin breathes, yeah
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| It’s all been saved
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| With the exception for the right parts
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| When will we be new skin?
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| As outwardly cliche as it may seem
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| Yes, something under the surface says «c'est la vie»
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| There is a circle, it is a plan
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| Dead skin will atrophy itself to start again
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| Look closely at the open wound
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| See past what covers the surface
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| Underneath chaotic catastrophe
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| Creation takes the stage, so
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| Dead skin will atrophy itself to start again
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| Dead skin will atrophy itself to start again
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| Dead skin will atrophy itself to start again
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| It’s all been saved
|
| With the exception for the right parts
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| When will we be new skin?
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| It’s all been seen
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| With the exception for what could be
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| When will we be new skin?
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| (Until the Twentieth Century, reality was everything humans could touch, smell,
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| see, and hear. |
| Since the initial publication of the chart of electromagnetic
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| spectrum, humans have learned that what they can touch, smell, see,
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| and hear is less than one millionth of reality.)
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| Fallacious cognitions
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| Spewed from televisions
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| Do mold our decisions
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| So stop and take a look and you’ll see what I see now
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| Now!
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| It’s all been saved
|
| With the exception for the right parts
|
| When will we be new skin?
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| It’s all been seen
|
| With the exception for what could be
|
| When will we be new skin?
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| Skin |