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Grin of the dead, the lost and still,
Moan of the gone and meek.
Cry on the mossy silent hill,
A whisper, then a shriek.
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Here I stand awake, alive,
and at the concept of death, I scoff!
Alive, What is alive,
The sense of being,
Or the being of sense?
Alive,What i..
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A life like stone with a mind of Gold,Yet we tend to others' life ten fold,With songs swept by wind,by the cry of our kin,and the Torment of all our a..
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There is a longing where a void is filled,I'm surrounded by glory yet I hunger still,I know You engulf me in Your holy flame,I quiver in splendor at t..
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What mysteries the world holds and pleasures are we given in this gift of life. How exciting, how splendid is it to be what all else must respectfully..
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I feel sorry for those.
I feel sorry for those who will live it down.
I feel sorry for those.
I feel sorry for those who can flourish
in their vic..
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The thought of man never ceases at it's prime. Rather, it fires on tangeants; and overkills any single thought. There is a longing in all that exists..
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