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Fever pt. II
Backwards I lay, Attempting sound to wither
So far away, nor silence comes hither Obsolete in the mass, passed time in this march Nostalgia is my only possession You take me away To places unseen Can not recall nor loose touch... For you still live, in me Once great, still subordinate You realized, you once feared A rope should help, fast and polite O I wasn't the only one who cried A way ahead, raised from dusk At sometimes even I comprehend your trust Yet most of all, it angers slightly It made me weep for times |
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