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Visions
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When I wasn't 16 I used to see strange things Some vaguely resembling ghosts or spectral hosts I was always fond of the notion I was drenched in some spirit ocean And all my visions merely the symptom of eyes open so wide That I could peer into the other side Ah Ah Ah Ah You're the freckles all along the hairline Revelations from feeble spirit half-lifes You're the ghost that I was born to know You're the throat from which the echo's thrown One day without warning the spirits stopped their warring The devil ceased imploring I said banished from my bed Or had I hallucinated?
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