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From this oblique matrix
He watches the plains of life
Silent are now the spirits
And the things have lost their voice.

The first born man knows and suffers.
The dead are walking
his heart with them.

The memory of darkness
Burns again
Making him the living witness
Of a collapsing universe.

The first born man knows and suffers
The dead are walking

With hands like knives
With hands like knives
With hands like knives
From this oblique matrix   He watches the plains of life   Silent are now the spirits   And the things have lost their voice.       The first born man knows and suffers.   The dead are walking   his heart with them.       The memory of darkness   Burns again   Making him the living witness   Of a collapsing universe.       The first born man knows and suffers   The dead are walking       With hands like knives   With hands like knives   With hands like knives