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Now every day the quiet dead |
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Will follow in your footsteps |
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They fill your dreams with awful dread |
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And walk in silence through |
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No holy names will comfort thee |
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Or justify your feelings |
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I'm only glad it's you, not me |
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Will dance the black tattoo |
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Your diary's empty |
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So there's no past |
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You can't remember |
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What you did last |
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Your diary's empty |
|
No words to read |
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No misconception |
|
It can't mislead |
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You take a chance and play the game |
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With deeds of blood and murder |
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Whatever comes, it's all the same |
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You know it's up to you |
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You live your life on borrowed time |
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It's playing tricks to fool you |
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Well, it's not like a nursery rhyme |
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With all good things and true |
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Your diary's empty |
|
The pages white |
|
So nothing happened |
|
For you to write |
|
Your diary's empty |
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Too late, you cried |
|
No concentration |
|
The thought has died |
|
Your diary's empty |
|
So there's no past |
|
You can't remember |
|
What you did last |
|
Your diary's empty |
|
No words to read |
|
No misconception |
|
It can't mislead |
|
Your diary's empty |
|
The pages white |
|
So nothing happened |
|
For you to write |
|
Your diary's empty |
|
Too late, you cried |
|
No concentration |
|
The thought has died |