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Sun-Less

Funeral For A Friend

Broken hands, so sans soleil
It lights my way through these
Empty streets at night
Dragging heels, the cold air stabs me
Like a needle running with this thread

Scissors cut me dead and gone
Living like the blade I carry
I never thought of you
Living all alone,
Scissors cut me dead I never felt
Like anyone could ever be
So far from home

The day begins
When the music ends its days
Like these that I
Wish I were somewhere else.
And I can't forget my own name
Replace it with a voice
That carries on

Composição: Funeral for a Friend





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