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The quiet sadness of the people of the north |
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Echoes silently around the cold grey places |
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Ecstasies undared tremble upon the edge of the tightly, respectably unfulfilled |
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Who drink to excess in order to forget what never happened |
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Brave faces |
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Well dressed ordered minds on suicides edge |
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Reflected in the rain skimmed slate grey, battleship grey, hardship grey... |
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And further south, and homeless, |
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Here i am. globally-altered and dishevelled |
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Oh darling, i've done it all |
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An antithesis of sorts |
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And yet bound together and hopelessly in love |
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With the inevitable loss |
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And the end |
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How can we run from ourselves? |