| She doesn’t need a creator
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| Nor a Salvatore
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| Never need anyone
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| That can make things batter
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| Here she is with her open body
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| Here she is with her open soul
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| She wore a mask that everyone can study
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| But inside she is a frustrated little doll
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| Sometimes she wants to be caressed
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| Sometimes she wants to be hated
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| Other time she wants her tears to be buried
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| Far away where her fears are cursed, cursed
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| She wants to run naked through the rain
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| She wants to be clean to feel no pain
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| She is talking to the clouds
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| She is begging the sky
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| The words die in her mouth
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| And she wants to die
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| Now, now you’re sleeping
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| No pain, no regrets, no speaking
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| Now!
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| Now, now you’re dreaming
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| No thoughts, no words without meaning
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| Her only wish is to escape
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| Her dream is to see what else she can take
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| To find in this mass an empty place
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| To be alone in her own space,
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| in her own space,
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| She is talking to the clouds
|
| She is begging the sky
|
| The words die in her mouth
|
| And she wants to die |