| Of what magnitude is this complexion of life?
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| Lying awake at the mercy of our train of thought
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| So we cover up our vices
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| And in a lack for grit try to outlive this weakness
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| Take these words and make sense of them if you will
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| Cause I am just too tired to care any longer
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| Yet I can feel that there is just no end to this
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| In the circle of self-deception
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| As we spend our waking years with a restless search for a higher meaning
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| I defy, for I can’t take all these empty words and empty gestures anymore
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| What fortitude is there to be found in giving up?
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| Nothing leads us to a change in scope
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| There is no change of motivation
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| And so we anxiously welcome our demise
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| As we spend our waking years with a restless search for a higher meaning
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| I defy, for I can’t take all these empty words and empty gestures anymore
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| No, but I will not be subject to these desires
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| For there cannot be only darker times ahead
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| As we spend our waking years with a restless search for a higher meaning
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| I defy, for I can’t take all these empty words and empty gestures anymore
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| Hence we realize life has ran past our aspirations
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| Still fostering our fear of loss, still fostering all of our dreams |