| This cold floor we know too well. |
| hearts poisoned with pride.
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| Black blood dotting our warmth.
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| Ending our contentment.
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| This place is a contorted altar.
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| I must seek strength from somwhere,
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| For I’ve reduced myself to nothing.
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| We’ve been here one thousand times.
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| Cold idle hands, floor-welcomed knees.
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| Hello autumn, I need not your companionship.
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| Doubtless I stand; |
| laying my heart into the hands of eternity.
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| Revive me doctines!
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| Await the day, when all our blood will wash away.
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| The world’s balance I’m too familiar with;
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| Selfishness outweighs genorosity
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| Blindness produced by your own hands afront your face.
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| Lips bleeding with guilt.
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| Frightful little fiends.
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| If these words mean nothing; |
| than where is the conclusion?
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| Lyricism aside, Christ is the deduction |