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I get up early everyday, as the machinery awakes. Feels like I've lost my right to choose, still playing war inside my head. And there is nothing special, it's just how I really feel. Why hope for better when tomorrow never comes. When time is no healer and change is utopia there is just one thing that remains -
Pick up the bricks, build yourself a door to go through. Write it up, find a sound, and turn it into TRANSPORTA.
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