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These hearts are built to sound the saddest of tunes |
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Tor ring the shades of hungry needles and scars of old longing |
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Where our numbered days meet our best intentions lay clouded by the weights we carried in our hearts and on our skin |
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Where can I fall when there's no-one to catch me? |
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What will I do when my soul breaks? |
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Who'll hear me then? |
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Dear, keep those clouds at bay |
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so this won't be just more dead poetry |
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to fall upon ears that have long since gone deaf |
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Let us heal these jagged exit wounds |
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Wash away all the stains and together make things right again and never let go |
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For once this feels so real |