I'm telling the truth, but it feels like I'm lying.
I'm still alive, but in this scene I'm dying.
From a blow to the heart I'm lying on the ground,
watching myself in the snow, never making a sound.
Then the darkness slowly pulls me under,
my heart's the prey this knife the hunter.
The melancholy phantoms sigh
singing out my blood red lulliby.
My last lulliby.
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