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Your gravestone is a second home

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I knocked on your door
not once, but twice
but you refused to wake
so there I stood, right by your side
and waited

The sun set
not once, but twice
but there you laid
so I stayed, night after night
and told you the truth of my lies

The caretaker tapped on my shoulder
not once, but twice
but I did not move from your grave
so he took me by the hand, looked into my eyes
and said:

"Sorrow can not bring back the dead,
but it can certainly allow us to see the light.”



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