| Silent empty streets
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| Forsaken to the cold
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| Moonlit, her shadow, like ink upon the snow
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| Barefoot, she shivers
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| With nowhere else to go
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| «Matches, matches here for sale»
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| And on this drifting course through time
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| Beneath the limitless sublime
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| Her heart beats lonely and afraid
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| Phantom faces at her side
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| In their anguish cannot hide
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| The beauty and the frailty of life
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| In desperation, she strikes a match
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| Her fingers burn with fire and ash
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| Escape the hard, imperfect world
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| Her eyes light up -- the matchstick girl
|
| Perception clashes, voices sing
|
| Like angels from a secret dream
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| And then, as quickly as it came
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| It fades into the cold
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| Back into the cold
|
| The delicate and empty stars
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| Whisper light without remorse
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| And every shadow growing brave
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| To stand below the morn
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| A vision captures just the smile
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| And lingers on her lips a while
|
| Before fading into the darkness
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| A stranger past unknown
|
| And on this drifting course through time
|
| Beneath the limitless sublime
|
| Everyone who ever was will die
|
| (Everybody dies)
|
| After all the moments live
|
| Whether too naive to give
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| The mercy one must grant, if he should find
|
| In desperation she strikes a match
|
| Fingers ablaze with fire and ash
|
| Escape the hard, imperfect world
|
| Her eyes light up -- the matchstick girl
|
| Perception clashes, voices sing
|
| Angels embrace her in their wings
|
| And then as quickly as it came
|
| It fades into the cold
|
| She strikes another, here again
|
| A nova burns, a hero’s flame
|
| Against the hard, imperfect world
|
| Her eyes light up -- the matchstick girl
|
| And like the rivers of belief
|
| A storybook, however brief
|
| And then as quickly as it came
|
| It fades into the cold
|
| Back into the cold
|
| Silent prayer, please God protect
|
| The fingers stiffened by neglect
|
| What she remembered, what man forgets
|
| And for her suffering, heaven wept
|
| In desperation she strikes the pack
|
| Fingers alight with fire and ash
|
| Warmth redeems a fading world
|
| Her eyes light up -- the matchstick girl
|
| Heaven breaks, and voices sing
|
| Like angels in her secret dreams
|
| And nothing here will ever touch
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| Nor harm this little girl
|
| And in the alley, looking back
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| Fingers cold, now stained and black
|
| The warmth departs a fading world
|
| Her eyelids close -- the matchstick girl
|
| The line breaks free this cruel space
|
| A knowing smile upon her face
|
| It stayed until the morning light
|
| Frozen in the snow
|
| The matchstick girl was home
|
| The matchstick girl was home |