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looking into the mirror and not seeing a thing
vain cause for such a sin
gazing in silence and glass flex
reflecting on looking hate

nothing but spite on the other side
nothing but oblivion
nothing but an echo
an echo

a strange key to a lost door
that god abandoned to man in a fit
of love
angels lust for it
and devils would pay for it

most of us have holes in it
for some it's been deleted

probably why we can't really
see ourselves

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The following comments are for "1133"
by Bran

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