| I took my heart in my hands,
|
| And placed it inside the mountain,
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| Because I can’t stand to think,
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| That the strongest roots won’t,
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| Save you when the bough breaks.
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| I count the days on my hands,
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| That I’ve sat inside this mountain,
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| And watched the world decay.
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| Beaten by the wind, and fire, and rain.
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| Plagues and pestilence, they fill my head.
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| Trapped in the finality of every end.
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| When every tear shed becomes a sea,
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| For you to sink in…
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| You have the same disease,
|
| And the contagion spreads.
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| The same disease as me,
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| The curse of empathy.
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| All hail the mountain.
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| Cold and callous.
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| Bastion of blood and stone.
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| All hail the mountain,
|
| Alter and antidote.
|
| You have the same disease,
|
| And the contagion spreads.
|
| The same disease as me,
|
| The curse of empathy.
|
| Have I just become a monolith,
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| Somewhere in between gallant and grotesque?
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| Well, I could never find peace in emptiness,
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| With these drums of war pounding in my chest.
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| I refuse to come down.
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| Leave me inside my mountain.
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| Leave me inside my mountain.
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| Leave me inside my mountain.
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| All hail the mountain
|
| Alter, and antidote. |