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The past drags behind us like a dead weight |
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Prone for the large part, yet piling on the guilt |
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Bullying, rebuking, lest we re-imagine |
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Because by moving in the here and the now |
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It has become ingrained as given |
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Direction less, transparent, brittle beings that we are |
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But consider this |
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Those who can't escape the past |
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Are condemned to repeat it |
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They place us in a losing battle |
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But will we die for any flag? |
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I don't think so |
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Quietly unwilling, escorted |
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There is little of our choosing |
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Disorientated by the noise of custom |
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It dissipates the present and the future unbalanced |
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Excluded for envisioning a new space |
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Those who can't escape the past |
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Are condemned to repeat it |
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Are condemned to repeat it |
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Those who can't escape the past |
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Are condemned to repeat it |
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Are condemned to repeat it |
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Condemned to repeat it |
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The past gives us oversight |
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But we have nothing if it is rehashed |
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Are we so stupefied that we've run out of steam? |
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The past can keep us blissfully ignorant |
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Away from a plunge into the virgin unknown |
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Are we so fucking drained that we've run out of steam? |
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Are we so stupefied that we've run out of steam? |
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The past drags behind us like a dead weight |
|
It has become ingrained as given |
|
Direction less, transparent, brittle beings that we are |
|
They place us in a losing battle |
|
It dissipates the present and the future |
|
Direction less, transparent, brittle beings that we are |
|
But consider this |
|
Those who can't escape the past |
|
Are condemned to repeat it |