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lyrics
She was fiction
After returning to my every dark place
after squandering new beginnings
I will have this one fresh chance
before I cannot begin again
The issue so trite in scope
so magnifies your face
that I cannot fathom any continuing thing
but I feel I skirt something at such a rate
that I could render myself unable to feel
forget this, forever, for real
And it ran along my arm
and I wondered at the quivering line it made
my skin, it reeks of a lonely aroma
my reflection beneath the phantom blade
A first true cold
Here's to the hearts and the hands of the men
that come with the dust and are gone with the wind