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Fragments is all I get
Fragments of my hate
Angry I wake up, in my bed
Rage and loathing boiling in me

I need to strike out, to crush my hate
But the source is long since gone
Safe in it's own private world
The source of my anger is gone

Bottomless the fire roars
Slowly combusting my insides
Slowly my mind turns into
One giant burning clustered mind

I strike out blindly
Blaming on the youth of today
I strike out at nations
And politicians and at all that I care

But the fires keep on burning
from the Fragments of a Dream
And as the inferno rises in me
I boil silently, trapped by the web of dreams
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