| Some of us are holding on to a life
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| That doesn’t want us anymore,
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| Trapped in a world that forgot us years ago.
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| Forever I am destined to walk
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| This continuous path that has no ending.
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| And so I say a prayer for the living
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| Because in this life when you leave,
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| You never come back.
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| Erase my face, take me from this lonely place.
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| This is not the path I chose, forever forsaken.
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| I am the ghost.
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| Searching for places that cease to exist,
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| And where I won’t find any answers.
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| We’re all just remnants of the past.
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| Some grow old and some die young,
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| The ones that die young are the fortunate ones.
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| And even though my eyes were left open,
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| They might as well be shut.
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| We’re the never played symphonies
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| Plagued with bitter sweet harmonies.
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| And our path is sung in the key of tragedy,
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| Our existence is sung in the key of tragedy.
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| These twisted paintings hang
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| And the band plays on.
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| These twisted serpents
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| Turn his sermon into song.
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| These twisted paintings hang,
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| And the band plays on.
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| These hallowed eyed ghosts;
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| They turn his sermon into,
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| They turn my sermon into,
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| They turn my sermon into song,
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| And the band plays on. |