| On that eve, the rain fell like knives
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| As clouds of dark condensed above her
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| Yet in bliss unaware, they loved without care
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| Not knowing this night would devour the other
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| By morn', she was drawn to silence
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| As ignorance now flamed inside her
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| A mind lost in these acts of violence
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| Within walls of cold white that surround her
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| Falling walls of cold night that now bound her…
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| So steal a line, recite a verse
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| From the poet’s play, but none could heal her from her curse
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| Like a helpless child, she was held at bay
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| For she wished to leave, but the world stood in her way
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| To her comfort, then came the rain
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| Playing a tune against her window
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| But in death unaware, her mind was not there
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| But halfway to a world she now craved to go…
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| In dreams awake, she prayed for release
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| If only this scarred heart could finally cease
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| Enough nightmares (for a lifetime) she had now seen…
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| And no hope is born from this eclipse
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| For the world will remain as cold as it is
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| Cold as it’s always been…
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| And I stole a line, but she could not hear
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| The voice of her love nor the end drawing near…
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| «Follow me»
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| Spake the crow
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| In tongues of old
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| And she followed him
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| And on the dawn of the third day
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| She left behind this world of grey
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| And even the rain froze to mourn as she slipped away…
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| «So fragile is our slumber
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| Awakened only by death’s cold gleam
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| For what are we but dreamers
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| On the sharp end of a broken dream…» |