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Echoes start as a cross in you, |
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Trembling noises that come to soon. |
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Spatial movement which seems to you, |
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Resonating your mask or feud. |
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Hollow talking and hollow girl, |
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Force it up from the root of pain. |
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Never said it was good, never said it was near, |
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Shadow rises and you are here. |
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And then you cut; |
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You cut it out, |
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And everything |
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Goes back to the beginning. |
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Silence seizes a cluttered room, |
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Light is shed not a breath too soon. |
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Darkness rises in all you do, |
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Standing and drawn across the room. |
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Spatial movements are butterflies |
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Shadows scatter without a fire. |
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There's never been bad, there has always been truth, |
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Muted whisper of the things she'll move. |
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And then you cut; |
|
You cut it out. |
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And everything |
|
Goes back to the beginning. |
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Never said it was good, never said it was new, |
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Muted whisper of the things you feel. |