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| The heat of the blood turns cold Driping and drying Down my arms Proving once again that The dead thing I am Is still alive Life fading, drifting away No, not to deep to die Left with the hopeless feelings of life But you would not understand How deep the pain is Scars left by the razors Of other people The heat of the blood turns cold Cold...cold again |
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| � D. R. Vecchione | ||||||||||||