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The edge of continuity for dream and reality. |
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Shaman is dancing his dance of death; the masks of the demonssurrounding me. |
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This is my wedding ritual that gives the violence. |
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The fog of the night, the dark water... to run through the expanse of light. |
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The mysteries of civilizations that left the |
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Earth more of ten times return to me; it gives no repose to me again and again. |
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Standing in the forestand seeing the atricities... all is inside me, and it comes back in the dreams. |
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The shaman dances, the masks are waiting for its demon. |
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The knife is in my hand. |
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The fog... will never crawl away. |
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My words are devoured by the bestial of silence and in invisible chains shackle my moves. |
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The dream continues it's gush to reality and the shaman drums louder the rhytm to his dance of death. |