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There's a question in the darkness |
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There's a hundred open doors |
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There's a whisper on the stairways |
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In every second floor |
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You know all room is infinate |
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You know you cannot fly |
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We try to fill the void with indifference |
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And watch with orphan eyes |
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For him who is |
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For him we cannot find |
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For him who knows |
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We fill the room with obscure relatives in every second floor |
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Your seventh son |
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Your seventh sister's lover's gonna come |
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It's seven stairways to the room where we belong |
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There's a question in the darkness |
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There's a hundred open doors |
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Our steps injure the dust |
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And we forget what we came here for |
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There's a whisper in the darkness |
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There are hundred traps |
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Gleaming eyes on the corridor watching every single step |
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Your seventh son |
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Your seventh sister's lover's gonna come |
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It's seven stairways to the room where we belong |
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We fill the rooms with fake calmness |
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Our eyes persuaded to be blind |
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You know all room is infinate |
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You know we cannot fly |