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I once loved a girl, her skin, it was bronze |
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With the innocence of a lamb, she was gentle like a fawn |
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I courted her proudly but now she is gone |
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Gone as the season, she's taken |
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And our young summers youth has stole her away |
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From her mother and sister, though close did they stay |
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Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day |
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With strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us |
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Of the two sisters, I loved the young |
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With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one |
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Their constant scapegoat, she was easily undone |
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By the jealousy of others around her |
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For her parasite sister, I had no respect |
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Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect |
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Countless visions of the other she'd reflect |
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As a crutch for her scenes and her society |
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Myself for what I did, I cannot be excused |
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The changes I was going through can't even be used |
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For the lies that I told her in hope not to lose |
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The could-be dream-lover of my lifetime |
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With unseen consciousness, I possessed in my grip |
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A magnificent mantelpiece, though its heart's being chipped |
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Noticing not that id already slipped |
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To a sin of love's false security |
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From silhouetted anger to manufactured peace |
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Answers of emptiness, voice vacancies |
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'Til the tombstones of damage read me no questions but 'please |
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What's wrong and what's exactly the matter?' |
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And so it did happen like it could have been foreseen |
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The timeless explosion of fantasy's dream |
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At the peak of the night, the king and the queen |
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Tumbled all down into pieces |
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"The tragic figure", her sister did shout |
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"Leave her alone, God damn, you get out" |
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And I, in my armor, turning about |
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And nailing her in the ruins of her pettiness |
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Beneath a bare light bulb the plaster did pound |
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Her sister and I in a screaming battleground |
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And she in between, the victim of sound |
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Soon shattered as a child to the shadows |
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All is gone, all is gone, I admit it, take flight |
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I gagged in contradiction, tears blinding my sight |
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My mind, it was mangled, I ran into the night |
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Leaving all of love's ashes behind me |
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The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet |
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The words to say 'I'm sorry', I haven't found yet |
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I think of her often and hope whoever shes met |
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Will be fully aware of how precious she is |
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Ah my friends from the prison, they ask unto me |
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"How good, how good does it feel to be free?" |
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And I answer them most mysteriously |
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"Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?" |