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Can we leave it behind, to be untouchable? |
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To document with photos and tape? |
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Can they separate our signatures, |
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And write new passions on our souls? |
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They re-write our souls; |
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Vicarious and careless, are we killing dreams deferred |
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By the decadence of status, wealth and show. |
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It seems the straight and narrow pathways are wider than you know, |
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All leading to the places where we tie our hopes to trees, |
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Resting nameless without epitaphs, resting unmarked memories. |
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Can they burn ideals? Can they steal a soul? |
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Can they bullet the intangible and fit body bags to hope, |
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Or does a dream deferred ignite its fuse and lie in wait to explode? |
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Is it suicide, the life I've left behind? |
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We are the cavalier and cold, keeping thoughts at bay and sinking ships. |
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Oh, the liars that we mold! They're only children anyway. |
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We never thought that we'd resort to sticks and stones, |
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when the caliber our weapons wield can only break bones. |
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Can we burn ideals? Can we steal a soul? |
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We are the cavalier and cold, keeping thoughts at bay and sinking ships. |
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Oh, the liars that we mold! They're only children anyway. |
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Dreams: What confines our motion to mainstream? It's all we have. |
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Our purpose is hidden in daydreams, and locked within our souls. |