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Thanks, symbolic vengeance that neither folds me or you into this submission. |
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Rows of empty houses now there's no leader or piper for anyone to follow. |
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Forecast sun this springtime and never undermine this - just relay the message. |
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Ample timing for a breakdown. While solemn we can take no real comfort or solace. |
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Thanks, Academy and all enemies force fervored motives. Rest on my laurels and |
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statues, broken virtues. I rest in little pieces. I've smashed to smithereens all hopes |
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and dreams nurtured in dirty playgrounds. |
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Last syllables never turn into words. Lost the goals of the war. |
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Now we've lost balance. |
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Now our heads hit the floor. Now we've lost the will to feel. |
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Now we've lost balance. |