Door has been locked from the inside of this hole
Curtains drawn, pour the midnight wine
Typing words that disappear in a vaccum
Visualizing images that fade from grey to black

Empty pages the tree had silently bled for
Bad karma is the cause of our wounded core
Imagination, hope and the good will
Enable a smile wrapped in our own despair

Our precious is nothing but opaque ornaments
Putting us into financial predicaments
Beauty, beauty feeds the hungry hole
And only mercy will save our dirty little souls


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