Blank face in the windowpane Made clear in seconds of light Disappears and returns again Counting hours, searching the night Might be waiting for someone Might be there for us to see Might be in need of talking Might be staring directly at me Inside plays a lullaby Slurred voice over children cries On the inside Haunting loneliness in the eye Skin covering secret scars His hand is waving a goodbye There's no response or action returned There is deep prejudice in me Outshines all reasons inside Given dreams all ridden with pain And projected unto the last
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