Dots...
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Two zero zero two, second hit, damn it!
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Show me the truth in the ocean of lies
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Find me lies in the mirror of death
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Tell me how to live, dying every day.
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I don't want to be if I have to not be
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I don't understand how people kill each other
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I don't understand why they put a price tag on love
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I hate it when conversations are interrupted by phrases like
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"Is there somewhere to stir up? I'm kumar, I'm dying ..."
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Yes, you went! |
Go get treated
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Did you see my helper? |
Open your eyes, parishioner!
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I'm not made of your dough, so get out of here quickly,
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While you're still breathing...
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I know it's worth throwing a handful of earth on a friend's coffin
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Dots on the veins, mutual responsibility in the minds
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I know that my words for someone are like peas against the walls.
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And I'm not yelling for the dead - for the living!
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For the memory of the dead yell for the living
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For the memory of the dead yell for the living
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For the memory of the dead yell for the living
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For the memory of the dead
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For the memory of the dead yell for the living
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For the memory of the dead yell for the living
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For the memory of the dead yell for the living
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For the memory of the dead For the memory of the dead...
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For the sake of the memory of the dead, the ellipsis in the soul is clogged,
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Nothing is forgotten
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The memory of the coffin is not covered, to whom that abrasion in the soul to whom
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the loss of a sea of gold will bring, and he does not disdain to take, takes away.
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Carrying our cross, we don't look back, we don't need to look at the past,
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Sublime, vulgar, but still corrupt and therefore not important,
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And falling into the same hole twice is not even serious.
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So how much is a painless death in that world,
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Where, when dying, only people think more broadly,
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Where mercilessly time builds new barriers,
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Where brother throws brother, for a ship with no return
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Where only black and white, Gerasim and the plan
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Where there is fun, but without beer it's bedlam,
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Where is the relaxation, how much do not give, but everything is in the steam
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Where you have to wake the living with cries of the dead
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We are dots. |
We talk about what we see, we close our eyes to no avail, just strain, uncle.
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I don't want to see my friends in zinc coffins, this is my last word to you.
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War is the crap of politicians and we should disentangle it at the cost of the lives of hundreds of thousands?!
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Carve a monument in five years, and forget everything?
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I will say one thing: return the soldier quickly home, send your son there.
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Perhaps you will understand then that the tears of mothers who lose their children because of political whores like you are worth it! |