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on life, death, and pleasure
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light i set aside my sentiments and sleep under the sky
and for a moment i could tell you everything's alright.
as we fall toward the grave and as we cling on to the light,
we're longing for a comfort in this dream that we call life.
a grasp and pull, we're bending strings and scream for more than might,
so we attack, attach and rearrange a host and take a bite.
for sustenance and parables, the search will be our plight
for how can we take off if we are already in flight?
