Isolated
We are all fated
To live with pain and suffer
Be born, grow and die
With the uncertainty of having done
What was supposed to be done
Torment or peace
it's the question that doesn't want to be silenced
it's the pain that comes to caress us,
Well, living is good,
But we know that we already There is no more
Torment or peace
Condemned
There are thorns planted to be harvested
With bare hands
Your prayers are of no use more
Torment or peace

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