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1. |
The Essence
01:41
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2. |
Hollow
10:01
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One day there will be no way to deliver
Words we have said are long gone in the details
Dim and deranged we have failed to remember
Their true weight and shape
Shape
In silence we stand
Frozen and watch outside
Running away from home
Never to return
Are we the same so far?
In these cold winter nights
We turn ourselves away
Thinking back again
So far away from here
What would you say today?
And if there is no light again
What, what would you say my friend?
No higher judgment
No prejudice
No voice of reason
No reckoning
Now is all there is, the only day to be
The chance, it is reborn, always anew
The sense, the sense of time, the meaning hides in moments
We create what matters next, what matters most
What matters next, what matters most
Oh, my friend, I keep on thinking
Of these words you once said
They sound so strange, so hollow now
About the day, how meaning hides in moments
About the chance, how it's reborn
How we create what matters next
All these words... so hollow now
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3. |
Similar
07:01
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The few things I could call my own
These things I'd like to see before they're gone
I'm pretty sure we've never seen the stars
The skies were always grey above our house
We say that time's running
Meaning we're always late
Late is the reason
We're trying
To be running ahead
Anything worth real trying
Is what we already lost
And anything makes sense when we hold it tight
There's not a thing
I could call my own
Nothing to see
Before it's gone
Please keep in mind what you have lost
This house is quite similar to the one we used to live in
Only looks so old and abandoned a long time ago
And we are so far away
So far away
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4. |
Parts of Me
07:32
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I walk through the city covered with dust
I roam in corners trying to find
A silent place, a hole in the ground
A place to bury the parts of myself
If I could bury them deep enough
They wouldn't belong to me anymore
Shifting matter giving life to the endless chaos, making sense
In these places lives the will until there is no part to eat
To those in whom the will has never turned or shown itself
This very real world of ours with all its suns and rotten soil is nothing, still nothing
But why do I see my hands covered with dust trying to keep my wounds closed?
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5. |
The Void
02:03
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