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The old man merely gazed off into the distance from the hideaway in which he lived.
The baby cries, searching only for the warth of his mother.
We are born paying the price for someone's punishment, for someone's sin.
But there is no such thing as a future without salvation, and the present slips quietly into the past.
We string together nothing but hollow ideas
and tell nothing but hollow lies
and as the rain falls donw upon us
something appears and fades away...