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Through the searching lights that weave and darts |
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Comes the stranger that cares not for your heart |
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The pain of living life this way must take its toll on you some day |
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Your jaded eyes can see embarrassment or harm |
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The frail skin that bleeds emotionally on guard |
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All lowest forms of life are pounding you inside |
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Your hollow cold display your tires masquerade |
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Let the image that you present entice |
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Unlike the mirror that shows the strains of vice |
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This act of contact your decay while willing souls will more than pay |
