When your breath gets weak and your vision¡¯s cloudy who¡¯s name will you call out?
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Their tendons sing like piano wire,
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Their muscles solid, forged from the strongest iron.
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Why am I the last machine?
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Where is my skin graft, so human, pure and so very clean?
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(Lonely like a memory)
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Why am I finding myself all alone?
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I¡¯m a furnace-fed scarecrow in a field of bones.
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They¡¯ve all given in what do they have to show?
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Existing in servitude, they¡¯ll reap what they¡¯ve sown.
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I can tell you what it¡¯s like to die.
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Stand up to the reaper while burning inside.
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If you don¡¯t believe just look in these eyes¡¦
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I can show you what lonely is like.
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We are broken, we are rusting slowly.
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We are burning and we are holy.
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Crawling along on these cast-iron knees
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To the coal miner¡¯s song soaking up the disease.
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They are changing, but their flesh I¡¯m denied.
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They are mortal; I¡¯m still rusting inside.
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I see the speaker with my X-Ray eyes,
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I see his determined and rotting insides.
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With these circumstances I think it¡¯s quite obvious,
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He¡¯d like to take a chance to speak for the rest of us.
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"Reach your roots elsewhere, fresh muscles are restless!"
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Their shuffling footsteps, like young children, helpless¡¦
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¡¯Bury the children. Carry the children. They¡¯ll be cozy in their graves.¡¯
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When your breath gets weak and your vision¡¯s cloudy whose name will you call out?
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Their eyes are glazed as they are carried away.
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Their wishes have all come true, but their words were twisted and construed.
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¡¯The grave is waiting for their arrogance!¡¯
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Through barbed wire and borrowed tongues they cry "Save us from this penance!"
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Now I¡¯m left behind, but I¡¯m alive!
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How I yearned to shed this shell.
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I am alone in this carbon hell.
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They have changed; they¡¯re still to blame
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With the same smile, the same style, and the same shame.
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I will carry their burdens on my back.
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Remove this label of martyr, that¡¯s all I ask.
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¡¯Just who do you think you are?¡¯
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They call me Atlas. I am a Titan.
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I¡¯ll be your savior.
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They call me Atlas. I am a Titan.
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Come with me my children¡¦
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We¡¯ll ride the lightning home.
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You will return to what you once were.
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Follow the sound of my voice, your prayers have been heard.
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Innocence is ignorance so run, as fast as you can, away from these men;
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these full-moon eyes are for you.
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We are all just miserable. We are all just machines.
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The Fox Is Restless (The Lamb Is Found)
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A Girl A Gun A Ghost |