Now there’s a thing called heaven, and a thing called hell.
A thing called life, and a thing called death.
A thing called fact, and a thing called faith.
Some things I understand, the others I cant tell.
The difference between mothers, brothers and others, I cant tell.
The utter sound of silence when your mind is under spell.
The blunders that you made,
Strike like thunders on your head.
How can i act like I’m still living
When my soul’s half dead?
How can I struggle,
When I, myself, tied my hands?
And I’m haunted every time,
By the ghosts of things I don’t understand.

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