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”WHITE LANDS OF EMPATHICA”
The end.
The songwriter`s dead.
The blade fell upon him
Taking him to the white lands
Of Empathica
Of Innocence
Empathica
Innocence
”HOME”
The dreamer and the wine
Poet without a rhyme
A widowed writer torn apart by chains of hell
One last perfect verse
Is still the same old song
Oh Christ how I hate what I have become
Take me home
Getaway, runaway, fly away
Lead me astray to dreamer`s hideaway
I cannot cry `cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
Forgive me
I have but two faces
One for the world
One for God
Save me
I cannot cry `cause the shoulder cries more
I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
My home was there `n then
Those meadows of heaven
Adventure-filled days