1. |
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Pluck a thought from my head,
examine the seared remains of a once fruitful plant.
Rainforest cut down, dead and infertile;
stripped of its crown.
The soil is dry and cracked,
and the trees remain as splinters,
none of which in tact.
The inhabitants are dead,
apart from an only butterfly,
that floats around my head.
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2. |
Behind The Screen
03:46
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It's started to feel like I'm not looking through my own two eyes
it's come as quite a surprise to find my senses reeling from reach,
something's stealing my sense of well, can't you tell?
From behind a screen, I watch and scream.
No one hears, no one sees;
No one's here to set me free.
I pinch myself to check that I'm still here,
I've lost my sense of well,
and found my sense of fear.
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3. |
New Colours
02:14
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Sun ablaze goes down from the stage,
an ice blue curtain drops as I gaze
across a pale panorama,
I've made it through this game again.
Liberation from my cognitive labour,
my head is clear; oh holiday saviour
Disenthralled my mind from its cage,
a new year ahead, but will anything change?
Different turns in the road,
unfamiliar places.
Dive into different dimensions
expand your comprehension.
Make your own merits
with new colours on the palette.
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4. |
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Momentary existence never seized;
a grey persistence is the life you lead.
Days are shapeless; under going maintenance.
An apple that was never picked from the tree.
In a broad span of daydreams, when will I catch my grip?
Find my oar and row my boat, remember that I still exist.
And now the sky seems more white than grey;
and I've learnt.
I've made a difference to myself today.
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