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In this train of earth
Where life is worn like a thorn
And death is a plucked rose
Where men are beasts
And beasts are men
Where shadows are alive
Alive to mock with dark laughter
Where dreams are glass shards
Bleeding us into reality
Where ambitions are like pricking flames
Melting out our very hopes
When dreams come true
Then like the end of a cockcrow
We cease to dream
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