Somewhere between the truth and lies, lives the man I now despise
Though once he might have been alive, existence is now all he tries
The candles burn and waste away, like everything he's ever had to say
in his the head the echos say, that they wouldn't have mattered anyway
with a smile no longer real, like the emotions he says he can feel
The soul that no one would steal, Under wounds that just won't heal
melancholy has made it's home, inside his old and weary bones
another day empty and alone, with the sin for which he can't atone
he sighs and lights another cigarette, blows out bitterness and regrets
for a moment old emotions light a spark, in the emptiness of his heart
a sad smile finds a familiar place, under dead eyes in a broken face
hes decided that on account of pain, that it is time to call the game
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