Sing it. Singing a different song. Make it. Guess who will play along. I can't help looking at me. C'est la vie. My hands are free as can be. C'est la vie. Wanted: Passion. Wasted and hopeless. Makeshift glory, praises, fortress...blame me. How can I speak on the other side? We cannot be inside this war until we bleed and make it louder. Various degrees of love and of hate. With a gun strapped to your side I believe you have your faith. I move onward with a trumpet and a voice and Ghost inside my head and the past is noise

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