| Searching for solace in a toxic temple
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| Fragments of lead climbing through your head
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| Stones load your coat as you wade through the winter current
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| Dancing with the dead on the riverbed
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| Wanton hanging of the wise pale king
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| And I see myself
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| Here we dream in a bed of seamless sleep
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| The rain never wakes you from your descent
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| Sinking through subtle waves that disguise the current down below
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| You’re pulled in the undertow
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| Intricate: I watched the world dance inside your head
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| Ephemeral: everything created must expire
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| Misery: losing hope for a dying world
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| Or did we lose hope in ourselves, my ineffable?
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| Words lose sound with every fathom, further down
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| Torn between two worlds
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| Floundering in a state of metaxis
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| One is waning, one is dead
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| In both, we feel too much, we feel too much
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| Intricate: I watched the world dance inside your head
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| Ephemeral: everything created must expire
|
| Misery: losing hope for a dying world
|
| Or did we lose hope in ourselves, my ineffable?
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| Most nights we merge into one dream
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| You mouth that four word sundering
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| Soundless, but somehow deafening
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| «I can’t go on»
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| I’ll strain my voice to make you relent
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| But the tide holds me in my dissent
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| We’re bound to each other in the undertow
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| You were my ineffable |