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I would listen to a milion songs for you,but not one had an ending.I thought about love...It tortures us.. we hurt ourselves for love.Without love, life would pass with so little pain.There is a hole in my hand,where anothers belonged.And it's cold, as I am,and alone.The bitter ice eats at me,accuses me of murder.Seeking revenge it plagues my sleep.Where I cannot close the window,and the snow