The wake up means walking on the edge.
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Wrong decissions running through my veins.
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Immortal sorrow scars on my soul.
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Rejected and trapped in myself.
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Black velvet was the gift of the time.
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Nothing left to loose.
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Nothing to believe.
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Hands tied feet chained.
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Hiding behind shadows of anger.
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To wake up means walking on the edge.
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But I often feel that misery.
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It's the most important part of being happy!
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Tyranny Of Small Misery
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| Caliban |
