| «Something better than death
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| We can find anywhere»
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| We are cannon fodder
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| A plastic bag on a shore
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| Flowing back and forth
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| In a polluted shit of dawn
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| Ein, zwai, the leaders order the men to gloriously die
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| Ein, zwai, the leaders order their men to uselessly die
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| With the weight of a ton in your heart, sick, we’re living our lives
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| In a new epidemic of sorrow, everything is all right
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| Ein, zwai, the victims fall to the mincer of amnesia
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| One by one, the victims leaving a helmet of nostalgia
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| A repeating sequence
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| Shadows in black and white
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| Unending chronicles of époques lost in time
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| And then a window hollow
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| A Freudian scene
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| An oceanic square with all my demons in uproar
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| Ein, zwai, the victims fall to the Winter of amnesia
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| One by one, the victims losing their faith in God as they die
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| Are those a village lights or are they stars?
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| Are those the lights you brought me when I was beaten, fallen and drunk?
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| Are those the sparkles of your eyes?
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| Are these the borders of my time? |