Drawing back, now I see
The pile of, broken tools
Beneath the dust, in the darkness
Some were useful once, but like me some never been
We all lie stagnant, with our hands around our necks
Rusted with, discussions from the past
First shaft of light, sting my eyes
But I welcome the warmth, to burn the scars
But I hold so closely, the things that I despise
Someone make me useful, something...(more)
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