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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2001-12-13 | [This text should be read in romana] |
Don't slip away
Under the stairs Or think bad thoughts In the middle of prayers Exposing your soul Like an open door Stained on the surface Rotten to the core Sleeping all day Locks up your mind And the smoke at night Lets you unwind Or so they tell me Or so I've heard That darkness comes down Like a dying blackbird Drift away Inside Your head Not dead to the world Because the world's already dead Come out at night Under a lonely tree Is the rising sun The last thing you see? Then they know When you can't see yourself The ashes in the shell Belong to someone else In the morning they forget All they've seen and heard As darkness comes down Like a dying blackbird Tell me what you heard
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