Walking the Roman Roads
Darkened mist uniting the young and old
A scared silence with an eerie wind
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I am the carpenter of my own thoughts,
And a doctor to my own heart.
I am the priest of my own soul,
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My Tears reborn.
Sadness weaved in the fabric of my bone.
I am Alone, A king without a Throne.
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When the Drunken shadows echo my demise
I shall rise
When the clouds of doubt darkens my rainbow
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When the loud trumpet lies
And the slithering mist usher our souls demise
A chameleon claims the eagle flag as his right
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My Last Letter to Erica:
Erica I love you,
But I have so much to say.
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A Letter to Erica:
How can I embrace you?
When we are ripped apart by oceans of tears.
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