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I’m living in thin, shiny walls.
With eleven rooms and an empty hall.
I’m living in confinement in the height.
And all I can do is watch the sky.
This is the related appointment I’d rather terminate.
And the golden throne I’d rather abdicate.
So as the walls are starting to tumble.
Just in case it starts to crumble.
Can we wait and hope it will pass?
As we’re running from our house of glass.