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作曲 : Anna-Varney Cantodea |
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作词 : Anna-Varney Cantodea |
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Nothing is in this world can be |
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as immaculate and pure |
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as the love of us Cold Ones for the dead. |
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Our love lives only in those fleeting moments of recollection ... |
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- memories we're fearing to forget. |
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Our love knows neither kiss or touch, |
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we are embracing dust, air or ourselves |
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when visualizing what we've lost. |
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Awoken by a sound or scent, |
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some visions call sad phantoms ..., |
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floating, wrapped in fading colours ... |
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- our lament. |
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And then there is the all-devouring dread: |
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"Some day I might not bring him back ..., |
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when my feeble mind can't help |
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but lose the contours of his face." |
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Lost forever, lone and sad, |
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gone forever to the dead ... |
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- so far beyond the barriers of the opposite space. |
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Yet, alas, despite it all ... |
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walking through these deserted halls ... |
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It's easy ... still ... to love the dead...- |
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It's easier to love the dead. |
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