| The soul burned in heaven clouds
|
| before the greyed events of ones reality per se through marches of hate
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| onward, payed to bullion from spoken stabs taken by controls
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| to unified fanned by reality — distant souls.
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| The second wave will break from this say to the humanity
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| by the numb axis numbing forever to sell their horror,
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| the grounds are ready to plunge, then we start to empty
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| forgotten by illumination, darkness is all there is.
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| Weapon come, defy your fears. |
| Again try to stand your ground.
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| Gone unwritten a living son, Step into my oblivion.
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| Come and watch! |
| you’re stabbing down,
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| you’re pleased now, there’s nothingness.
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| Unreached a living son, step into oblivion.
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| Cunning, come into the vortex then comprehend,
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| extending their twisted eyes. |
| My own replant taunting us,
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| fears, my instinct continues to scan,
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| Now to the choir disgust, as seen by all these American dates
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| and missing something disgraced forever, bound to bleed.
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| Why it’s confused and ridiculed and chained and scrapped
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| from birth, downed, repelled in their mind and ways —
|
| to stay on the berth of human ground, humiliation flaunts the seed
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| of apprehension played, weighing events, black states to call a shade
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| of my every day.
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| Weapon come, face your fears. |
| You’re damned, you tried, it’s burning ground.
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| Bask in the light of a mocking sun, step into my oblivion.
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| Come and watch the stabbing ground,
|
| you’re pleased now there’s nothingness
|
| unreached, a living son, step into oblivion. |