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■ The oak
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Stabbed by my past
Just when I started crawling to let go There is no rest, no pleas and no regrets For this sinful soul Haunting memories Make me live it on and on I take such a deep breath That it must have reached my bones Feeling my skin burning slowly With the touch of your flame Feeling my heart getting colder And not standing the pain Raping my conscience Making me feel so alone Tearing me up, ripping me off Not letting me close its door
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