| Who is the old man, who fills
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| my heart with greatest pain
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| yet his name remains unheard?
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| I look at you and true tears shake
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| my eternal Saturnworld.
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| Who is the old man, whose
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| picture burned itself
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| down to the bottom of my soul.
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| You push me back and raise me up,
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| the criteria for both I long to know.
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| Who are you I worship? |
| What is the
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| name of the one I saw?
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| Tell me how to reach you, to you I’d
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| bow my head in awe.
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| You speak to me but what is it I hear?
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| We have never really touched…
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| — such is the design of my greatest fear.
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| Cruel, cruel, cruel… a veil I cannot penetrate,
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| in different worlds we dwell,
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| attempting to dissolve what separates.
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| I force my face against this strangest
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| membrane-wall and desperately I call for you
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| from the darkest depths of my lonely soul.
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| The mist of the dimensions
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| through which to glance it seems not allowed,
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| or maybe it’s just that our level is of no
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| interest as it is simply too low.
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| Is it true that only the mirrors’strength
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| can conquer the mist and then be therefore received?
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| You turn around the illusion of a voice…
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| — my desire crowned by another defeat.
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| If doubt walks in I am growing weak in fear…
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| — one day all pictures fade.
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| Lying down, looking inside
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| I call my dead lover in his grave.
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| My eyes have caught a glimpse of you,
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| now I devour myself to embrace your peace.
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| The distance grows, we drift apart.
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| What is the use of eyes if they cannot see?
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| Hear me in my darkness,
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| please wait for me, I’ll find the way.
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| I promise, I shall resist the tides,
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| until I’m finally united with you again… |