| I am a wraith, I’m a slayer and I have no one left to slay
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| I am at the end of the road, a road that led me astray
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| Your life should not be wasted, if you’re not ready to die yet
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| Until the soil falls upon you, you shouldn’t meet your death
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| The ghosts and wounds become one
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| Longing to be whole in the slow fade to black of a lost soul
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| If I had one I would gladly cut my heart out
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| But I can only dream on
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| The tide that swelled in my veins has gone dry with sand and rust
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| The salt and the heat of skin replaced by the kiss of dust
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| Below the rock it grows colder and colder still is the night sky
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| My hopes go up against the black space
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| Defiant little moths, they die
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| The wounds and ghosts become one in scars numb and old
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| There’s no fiery deep nor gates of gold
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| I am the one, whose teeth I’d like to kick out
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| But I can only dream on
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| My bones drying up, lying numb to pain, they’ll try to move in vain
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| No feasts or songs for a mouth that’s rotting away
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| Why do I see the moon shining right through me?
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| The cold white moon
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| The bone white moon
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| I just wait for all these memories to fade out
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| So I wouldn’t be dreaming on |