Fractured signs, they waste my time,
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they concentrate, they take what's mine,
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lost they move like fractured ghosts,
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to empty heads in empty lines.
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Trapped in frames of empty films,
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a war is flat, in frames they kill,
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light will char and edits cut,
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they broadcast stare-
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they know they must.
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Faded raids before they fold
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into themselves
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it's done I'm told,
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acting last repeats to last
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and beats you back
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when credits rolled.
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Build yourself a fame through fire
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and douse it out
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when you require,
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list your age on lilac page
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strength in a crawl
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back to the stage.
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When it's obvious they're not scared of us
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they will drag you back to cold,
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all film burnt at source, much too fast of course
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they will drag you back for more
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when your wish runs out they will make you doubt
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they will drag you back for more
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when your frame runs dry minds will start to fly
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they will break before they fold.
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Broadcasting once
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Broadcasting twice
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Broadcasting one two three four five.
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-----------------
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Broadcasting
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The Damage Manual |