Count your falls do you see what behind
Seek right into the light of
Scanning port
You try but without a doubt all bow
To mental disharmony
Shed your tears maybe you'll find your contrast
Vaults of disbelief they're made of gold
You strike deep to find the seed
What if you planted your own demise
We sold what was real
Under a pitch black flag of hate
We own what is still beyond
Their sacred grip of state
Digital resolution
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