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I see man is plagued with a moral disease of life |
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Can't you see that your blind inside |
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Fortunate to give your life |
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I seek life within a buried soul |
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Drying the blood of your soul |
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Broken down and loosing all control |
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Like child |
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This word is born again |
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Into a rusted sea of salt and spoils |
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A broken dream laid to rest in crude blood |
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Like broken arms of the clocks of existence |
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Pointing us beyond a southern cross |
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Past the times of preconcieved nurturings |
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Give yourself unto yourself |
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You are the god of your own individual plane |
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Of existence |
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I see man is plagued with morals loosing life |
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Can't you see that your blind inside |
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Limit youself and making yourself so blind |
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This is what you call loosing all control |
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The dyes of seperated self ties me to loose my soul |
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You are the god |
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And all that matters in your world |
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A world of bones brittled and battered |
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Smashed into a powder that clouds this vision |
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A vision of a perfect world |
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And that one place |
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The place in which we shall call home |
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The home at rest with the collection of thought |
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A place to rest with no memory |
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Blackened and peacefully cold with ones self |
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We live |
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To Die |
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With no answers |
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The truth must go on |
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So we |
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Can see |
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The lies hidden behind the words |
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In our lives you know there's so much pain |
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So why do you live at all |
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Some sort of sadistic |
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In this life you know there's so much hell |
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So why do we live at all |
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Some sort of sadistic |
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Game |
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We live |
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To die |
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With the truth |
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This lifes answers must go on |
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So we |
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Can see |
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Lies hidden behind the words |
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This life shall pay |
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Like the broken clocks hand |
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Of dawn |
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So we |
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Can see |