2006 December:
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Another chapter of the same confession Like a road treaded beyond its days As darkness falls and lights grow dim Spirits flee, demons swoop in Are we blind, can we not see? But our eyes work fine They see the danger that lies ahead Yet on we venture Through thick brush in valleys of death We give our souls, we give their flesh Where is the hero of who we call? But mute voices can not be heard Who will save us in times of need? When we do not ask, not one will heed In the end, it’s the choices we make We are the ones, and the paths we take
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