22 lines
1.0 KiB
Plaintext
22 lines
1.0 KiB
Plaintext
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Born of two; raised by four.
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I guess I took it all for granted, and only three remain.
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Even though you're wounded, I know that you're still here.
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I don't blame you, you just can't face the change.
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We spend our golden years as living ghosts.
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Caught in a constant state of purgatory.
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We are only burdened by our memories until the day they cease to exist, and we follow shortly after.
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Although I wonder if at any time, our minds fell upon the same plane.
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I know they did, I just wish I had a chance to go back and appreciate it.
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But we'll always have the winter, and the snow that got trapped behind the glass.
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You may be only a shell of the man that you used to be, but I love you just the same, and I will until the day you're gone.
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I just never know if I'm communicating with you or the disease.
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And even though I curse the idea of an afterlife, I still hope you're taken care of.
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You deserve to be at peace.
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Please don't forget my face.
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I won't forget to remember you.
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___________
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Name Ghost
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Artist Counterparts
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Album The Difference Between Hell and Home
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