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■ The oak
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Spikes are falling softly on every step I represent
Because of the wall that was torn down without consent And thus let the snow rush to leave me broken in strings Again and again on a deserted field of silent rings. At least if they were angry or in need to splash a sound, But everything's still without remorse around. Not even faking that it would give me the sun Having in thought that nothing can be undone? I cannot speak but in hesitating words For sincerity has proven that it can fly like black birds To swing some lies before my cell And leave me numb inside a silent shell. Then and now when I urge to say what I have inside and remember that any line is denied The spikes come crawling, but silent still... and die inside my heart until... Conclusion: when two hearts break, they don't break even. Friday, 08 May 2009 12:08:20 AM
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