Everything around me shrinks and expands
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Memories compacted
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Fantasies extracted
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Suspend me from the floor and push the ceiling nearer
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This is just a reenactment of the thoughts projected from your eyes
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The faces and names are not real
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Only the tears, blood and glass are authentic
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We link hands and dreams to become the map of the damned
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Found a wound across my ribs, soft and fresh as a ballet shoe
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To finger and feed
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Memories flaccid
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Fantasies reenacted
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Finger and feed
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Harvest At Dawn (Enter Fertility)
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Circle Of Dead Children |