| I don’t believe in them
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| but, somewhere there are gods hiding inside of their own heads
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| using all of their might trying to stop their own eardrums
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| from pounding out the sound of your name
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| You are lightning trying to tame thunder
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| leaving split second scars against the sky
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| as if you were breaking the skin of something that won’t die
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| My first instinct is the same as my second
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| strongly reinforced as if by diamond sheeting
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| that donated its glimmer to charity so that it can look dull and tough
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| A shine now scuffed as if the world left a bruise on light
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| I fight my instinct long enough to realize that I won’t win
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| I give in surrendering to an impulse
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| somewhat believing that my imprisonment will not involve torture
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| if I can confess everything I know
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| I know nothing
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| I bring an emptiness to your need
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| like a dog laying a skeleton at your feet
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| bone by bone
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| I lay stone all around you in a circle,
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| as if any moment you will burst into flame
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| and warm us long enough so that I can tell you my ghost story
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| But part of me still haunts my memory |
| It throws chairs against my mirrored mind
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| cracking the reflections in which I once thought I would find answers
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| if I reflect long enough
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| There will be answers
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| But like mail on a Sunday none came
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| So I sit before flowers hoping they will train me in the art of opening up
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| I stand on mountain tops believing that avalanches will teach me to let go
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| I know nothing
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| but I am here to learn |