The artist's palette falls,
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The paint is spilled with blood.
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Someone shot him down,
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Left him without a soul.
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His body's laid to rest and underground he'll stay,
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With hopes to resurrect and live again another day.
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Now they decide who lives and dies.
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Now!
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His peers won't come around,
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They're too disgraced to face.
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Another soldier down,
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His life's work a waste.
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And now these walls are bare,
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No one pretends to care.
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A distant memory,
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His masterpiece
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In disrepair.
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Now they decide who lives and dies.
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Now they will hold you back.
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They will hold you back.
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They will hold you...
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We stand tall and illumine.
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We fight through and prevail.(We will prevail)
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We don't stop where you'd be giving up.
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We won't ever fail.
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A martyr takes his hand,
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To make him live again.
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With savage sleight of hand,
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He'll force his legs to stand.
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A sick and gutless joke,
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A serenading hoax.
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Interrupted peace.
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A waste of time.
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A pathetic excuse for hope.
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The sleepless nights have no compassion
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And the dreams that come aren't true.
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A charade of lies unconscious
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And so much left to be proved.
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But the sun will rise and fall again
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And the nights will start to shorten.
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The memories will fade into darkness.
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You can't let it go.
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But your world is turned upside down.
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It's a panic you can't release.
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Once you have it, you just can't
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Ever ignore it.
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That's when you realize your best
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Days are behind you.
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And all you ever live for
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Is regret.
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You can't take it away. (You!)
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You can't take it away. (You!)
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-----------------
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The Artist
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| Silverstein |