In the whimsical heart, a frozen ticket thrives,
Destination, oh, an illusion of pounding walls.
Here lies the remedy, a mirage in empty hands,
Oh, a dance of fear, in the corners of closed eyes.
Away, away, to the beat of resignation,
A runaway spirit in the dark, hiding itself.
Ain’t no relief in the corners of injustice,
Just the echoes of tired whispers painting the air.
Pounding, pounding, the rhythm of the hidden self,
Oh, a far away realm where the unseen is seen.
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