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    In walking sleep and faded sight

    In countless desperate steps

    Trudging crossed a dead end world

    Clawing to the depths

    Competing on the treadmill

    But grieving where they stand

    An ordinary circumstance

    An ordinary man

    They gathered all possession found

    They consummate their plans

    Bleeding at their fingers

    From digging with their hands

    They all congratulate themselves

    But nothing have they done

    Their vessels lined up on the shelves

    But empty every one

    The point of no return

    The closing of the door

    The coldest days of Winter

    The center of the storm

    Before the dust has settled down

    Before the spiral turns a twist

    Before the numbers of your bank account

    Are carved into your wrist

    One by one we'll walk away

    And watch the towers fall

    Before the season old in Winter cold

    Makes cretins of us all

    The turning of the world

    Brings coming of the dawn

    And all these days of darkness

    Will be forever gone

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