There's a passion, it's stinging my skin, and his actions are drawing me in;
I must take a taste within, just to look, to live like him;
I'm starting to copy what I've seen.
Would I miss myself, with another name, just a name?
Could I kiss myself, if I looked the same?
There's a pattern in the glance of his eye, and for certain, it's the mirror he spied;
I must take my place within, just to live and be like him:
I'm trying to copy what I've seen.
I must take my place within, just to look and live like him;
I'm starting to copy what I've seen.
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