| A table set for two
|
| The candles lit for one
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| In a reunion of the two
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| Drawn apart at the dawn when all life begun
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| Waking restless to dead hours
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| The world now feels a different place
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| Upon the fields of burning flowers
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| (lie) the monuments of our disgrace
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| The breaking down of old ideals
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| and fears too monstrous to be spoken of
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| And the crumbling of old laws
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| once thought that never could be broken
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| Broken down — and buried unto unshallow ground
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| Left are only broken beings
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| Souls merely filled with emptiness
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| Burning on the grips of an everlasting,
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| Ever-tightening cold caress
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| Caressed, unblessed to a morbid life in death
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| In a world where each breath is both mute and suppressed
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| Stealing empires from serpents no more
|
| As our eleventh hour has struck twelve
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| After vain glories and false purgatories
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| We are left only with ourselves
|
| I watch the world now turn as if it were the same
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| Beneath starplunging rain, under nightmares we crawl
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| Where all is lost and nothing gained
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| But a harsh newfound death now living deep within us all…
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| Where all is but a dream, a dream and yet so real
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| Within our Hell concealed, by this unlife reclaimed
|
| I watch entire worlds fade away only to return the same…
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| A whole world once cut in two
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| Now entwined as one
|
| And with breath we inhale
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| We both live and become undone… |