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There he walks into the fumes.
And he doesn’t know how to feel.
From his glass the fear looms.
Bottoms up, time to sink.
You think it’s nothing.
But you are drowning.
In the swim of things.
You think it’s nothing.
But you’re drowning.
Can’t you see you’re falling overboard.
There he walks into the cold,
washes the blood from his face.
Dreams of glory and gold,
drift away with the waves.