| One year before the day she swore to me
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| She knew exactly how this would end
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| You left them once before
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| And now you’ve found a reason
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| To finish what you’ve started
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| The forfeit of a barren path
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| This is a death march, an escape from it all
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| The final defiant act of a broken man
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| A losing struggle now an absence embraced
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| Guilt draped like a cross around your neck
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| Too proud to face the burden you’ll become
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| Words scrawled across a page
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| Close the door and leave it all behind
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| A father, a son, you were known by many names
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| Will they be remembered as your breathing departs?
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| A funeral call to those who mourn this figure
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| Withered by the rain
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| The skies grey, downpour
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| Above his plot of freshly carved earth
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| A fitting epitaph if ever there was
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| The shot rang out, echoes shattered off the wall
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| The shot rang out, the shot rang out
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| Echoes shattered off the wall, the shot rang out
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| And to this day I still grieve for her
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| Now haunted forever by that sound |