Save the date, forget the place, end this now
Note the time, flip the pages
Why should I wash my hands of what others have done?

The sky will darken with spent cries left for dead
We all hate to see the truth
But we all love to imagine our own
And when our time stops where will we rest?
I tried to translate my visions to something tangible
The fading sound of my thoughts getting harder and harder to recognize
The landscape is blurred with your lies
What is there to say in a moment like this?
Identity is what I can no longer stand to hold
Portraits of detachment
Morals of misfortune
Things are still the same
But cast in a new light
Or perhaps an absence of
I create my own form of distraction
No one is made for this
Or at least they shouldn't be

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