Who is the old man,
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who fills my heart with greatest pain yet his name remains unheard?
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I look at you and true tears shake my eternal saturnworld.
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Who is the old man, whose picture burned itself down to the bottom of my soul.
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You push me back and raise me up, the criteria for both I long to know.
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Who are you I worship? what is the name of the one i saw?
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tell me how to reach you, to you I'd bow my head in awe.
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You speak to me, but what is it I hear? we have never really touched...
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Such is the design of my greatest fear. Cruel, cruel, cruel... a veil I cannot penetrate,
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in different worlds we dwell, attempting to dissolve what seperates.
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I force my face against this strangest membrane-wall
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and desperately I call for you from the darkest depths of my lonely soul.
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The mist of the dimensions through which to glance it seems not allowed,
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or maybe it's just that our "level" is of no interest as it is simply too low.
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Is it true that only the mirror's strength can conquer the mist and then be
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therefore received? you turn around the illusion of a voice...
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My desire crowned by another defeat.
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If doubt walks in I am growing weak in fear...
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"One day all pictures fade". Lying down,
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looking inside I call my dead lover in his grave.
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My eyes have caught a glimpse of you, now I devour myself to embrace your peace.
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The distance grows, we drift apart. What is the use of eyes if they cannot see?
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hear me in my darkness, please wait for me, I'll find the way. I promise,
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I shall resist the tides, until I'm finally united with you again...
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Memalon (2)
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Sopor Aeternus |