With silent eyes,
And beckoning cries,
And apathy to see underneath,
Began a climbing grief,
Of what he once used to be,
Closed the doors,
Don’t let them see,
Open the drawers,
Find the mask to be hidden,
And they won't yell ‘good riddance’,
With a sword in hand,
He battles like a dance,
Shooting like a sparrow,
With the precision of the arrow,
A time in the nights,
When...
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