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Reaching hands- circling down |
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I see it twist to nothing. |
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Torn from what it meant, cut from existence... |
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My fingers bleed, but reaching hands are not weak. |
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The light that once burned so bright, has now been cast a dismal grey. |
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Fighting to keep the voice alive, |
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I cannot let it end this way... |
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I'm held- in the arms of the few! |
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I walk in line with the sacred, never breaking my vow. |
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I swear to you. |
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A rise of commitment strong, a vision to which it belongs. |
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Purity of the mind and body, to keep the resistance moving on... |