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lirik lagu little death – this is the glasshouse

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i remember being born today
awaking from my little death
i remember everything like new
enough so that there’s nothing left
i saw what makes a person change
i learned where it originates;
(i’m crashing and burning)
inside a person who has now
become too dense to navigate
(and i never know my way around)

the stories that they used to tell
would shake us to the core
the fable of the ice
the stitches and a scar

i remember hanging from the floor
helpless in our invention
i was too afraid to look around
for if invention had k!lled him
from the broken window i was born
evening of the 5th of november
running up the hill of my demise
the old one k!lled in mid*winter

like stories that they told to us
but none like this before
the fable of the ice
the stitches and a scar
and when he saw me i pretended not to care
but by bomb or little death i knew that he was scared
but i know if he had died then i’d forget to live (with myself)
and i think if i had died then he’d never forgive (himself)

the stories that they used to tell
but none like this before
the fable of the ice
the stitches and a scar

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