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There is only one type of glamour behind this mirror
and it's us.
Every day we tune ourselves
into all the bad views
Cells change and then show us
of our mortality and our aim.
Thoughts come as the memories fade,
still mother remembers the beauty of her baby.
As millions live alone while the other half
stays locked away in love.
As millions grieve a loss while the other half
is singing in rejoice.
It was us
At a stand there waits a little man
who will sell you the bad news.
Behind the screen, there
arranging all the scenes,
to broadcast the bad news.
Time remains to teach life
of it's frugality and it's name.
People are the same, but divided in religion
There doesn't have to be an end.
There is only one type of glamour behind this mirror
and it's us.
Everyday we've tuned ourselves into
all the bad views.