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The wind blows through my hollow skull

Like knives penetrating breaking wounds

The scorching of the bastard sun

A golden glow upon my olden scales

And now I know

That I am not alone

I am never alone

The empty sketches of the past

I strike a match and set it alight

For I have moved on at last

When winter comes

To wash the pain away

I’ll strike a match and set it all ablaze