LYRIC

A source of anger.
A source of need.
A kind of raging.
Sudden I can't see.
He walks on past me.
I follow close and let
The fear inside him flow.
A sense of reason,
A sense of aim created this.
Created the pain.
Put down his payment
To run away,
The truth and honor combine to make
The same mistakes.
I make the same mistakes again.
Leave it on the table.
Leave it up to him.
Leave it on the table.
Leave it up to him.
A sense of reason,
A sense of aim created this.
Created the pain.
Put down his payment
To run away.
Truth and honor combine to make
The same mistakes again.
You make the same mistakes again.
You make the same mistakes again.

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