it is to see a traitor go free it is to feel a filter in me it is to leave the lights that I saw it is to ask: is it easy to go in this dead hour here with you seconds are worthless in this dead hour when all is blank minutes are worthless how long will it take until there will be room enough for hope it is so sad to see dispossession it has become my obsession it is to have a knife in my back it is to say my soul got a crack
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