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A whole new day erupts, -
Horizon’s lit with embers.
The sky is pierced with drops
Of tears shed by November.
The leaves twirl in their flight,
So weak and short of breath,
While reaching for new heights,
They glide into the depths
Of dimmed reflected skies,
Where heaven quickly smears
And echoes of their cries
Send ripples through the years.
The sad fate of the lost, -
To seek the Truth in mud
When by the window crossed
The Truth is hung to rot.
Just take a look outside, -
The skin hangs off its bones!
November, crucified,
In all three voices moans...