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