Black window, painted over damask
Rays of light are not able to pass
We are caught in the webs we weave
How will I buy my happiness?
Journey of incarnation
They call my name, my entire form
Nothing's like it used to be
How will I fill my emptiness?
Walls are not able to be climbed
Trees are not able to be cut
One thing I not is for sure
I will never turn my back again
~
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