| I am not what I believed to be
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| My face is the grimace of a drowning ghost, submerged by memories
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| My orbits look hollow and blank. |
| My chest is reigned by autumns breath
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| Hosting nothing but the shards of barkless ebonies
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| All these embodied shapes seem like strangers to me now
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| Thieves that stole my yout won’t hurt me again
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| Ranked like mute sentinels, set in naive reveries
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| Your chants are the cries of a thousand dying birds
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| Your rigid javelins in my side I wear and on my back a grove of willows appears;
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| Withered and parched, each with a hollow trunk
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| For as long as I am able to save my transparent heart
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| I won’t let you ruin the most precious part of me
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| The pattering of the rain is the soundtrack of my life
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| I am a lone wolf. |
| Survivor or beast? |
| But I have never been companionless
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| When I cried there was someone who cried with me
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| When I lost there was someone who lost with me
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| We were comrades in misfortune, hurt companions for a lifetime
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| Late at night we’re driving through this town. |
| Together, but both alone
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| I looked into her eyes and saw nothing but dying dreams
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| Suddenly she grabbed my hand and I could feel her cold fingers around mine
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| We drove right through the middle of the storm, me and my best friend,
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| named solitude
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| The eyes saw an empty street. |
| Our shivering bodies felt two silent hearts
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| The wind sent us some yellow leaves and what we got was a blue sky
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| A story about rain. |
| A story about the whirling sky
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| A story about dreams and struggle and this neverending longing for freedom |