It's funny to know
that my soul haunts this prison
not looking for my body
but of who can replace it
awaiting to fill
and be filled
that my soul haunts this prison
not looking for my body
but of who can replace it
awaiting to fill
and be filled
There is nothing inside me
to plant my feet on the ground
to plant my consciousness
on this earth
I am carried
by these lullabies
that don't make things
any better
I look through this memorable
window as if staring
through myself
There is nothing
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