Monday morning, a midwest gloom above.
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The word on the other end, the news's of death of hope.
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Life slain by love,
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I don't think that we will live through this.
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Life slain by promise.
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One last message of the voice of him,the voice of hope.
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But there was no hope,
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every second unfulfilled lifeless reality.
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For every weakened mind, for every broken heart,
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his strength will remain for memories every fucking day.
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Every word you said came true,
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with this knife to your throat.
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You got left in this hole, left alone to die.
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You foresaw the end.
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Is this what you want from us?
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Is this what you wish from us?
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You foresaw the end.
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You for took the end.
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Is this what you want from us?
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Now we're going to give it to you.
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I Dream Of July
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Bleeding Through |