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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-09-10 | [Text in der Originalsprache: english] |
He wanders through the streets alone,
his hair a tangled mass his heart so cold now, turned to stone as the "pretty people" walk past His coat torn and tattered, his eyes a blank stare life no longer mattered, he just doesn't seem to care What happened to make him that way; was it anger, fear or fright? Did he just "walk away one day," and completely give up the "fight"...
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