Neither the pen nor the white sheets help…
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If there is a weight in the heart
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Let the winds carry the ashes
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You want to burn
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Sometimes I think I'm asleep…
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All this weight will fall from the shoulder
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When will I wake up?
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But I do not know how long it will last
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I'm out of scope
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And you are Bermuda
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Hopes die last, you are my last hope!
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But you are with me
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If you have me
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In front of my eyes at every step
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Something reminds you
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I'm calling
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Or calls long
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Or the number is closed
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(call later)
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Now the wings do not help us
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Our place is on the edge of the abyss
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As if running away from the treasury
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We put away the spring from ourselves
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Now the wings do not help us
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Our place is on the edge of the abyss
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As if running away from the treasury
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We put away the spring from ourselves
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Inside is a stone market, or a tomb of the heart
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Our eyes are red, blood vessels instead of dolls
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Our nights are sleepless, our days are endless
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Where does the end of this infinity lead us to see ?!
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Our work increases and decreases, the time of love decreases
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Communication two dictionaries: "How are you?", Answer: "Good"
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We will pass the stone in the cold, leaving the memory
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Incubator people do not have a brother
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Now the wings do not help us
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Our place is on the edge of the abyss
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As if running away from the treasury
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We put away the spring from ourselves
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Now the wings do not help us
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Our place is on the edge of the abyss
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As if running away from the treasury
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We put away the spring from ourselves
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Now needles and systems do not help
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It is the love that is destroyed, the anger of the people
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Now magic or religions do not help
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To save the world from this black spell
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Simple things are fantastic for logic
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Techniques surpass the human mind
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I wonder who writes this work?
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It would be interesting to see the end of this tale
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Someone's eyes are closed, someone's mind is closed
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Disappeared difference, does not matter proximity or distance
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Even energy is sold, now everything has its price
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Hearts are also rented, several beds
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Now the wings do not help us
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Our place is on the edge of the abyss
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As if running away from the treasury
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We put away the spring from ourselves
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Now the wings do not help us
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Our place is on the edge of the abyss
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As if running away from the treasury
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We put away the spring from ourselves |