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The Light of Life


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Some lyrics of mine
Song
The Light of Life
In Prague's alleys, veiled in mist, Lives one, in chess's grasp, he's kissed, Who can decide the world's own fate, Alistair, the shadow's mate, A master player, clear as day. His eyes are dark, deep, and they gleam, His game's radical, come what may, Sometimes, he's lost within a dream.
Chess, a grand and mighty game, Who knows it, feels its burning flame. You pull the strings, you guide the hand, A puppeteer, you understand. He sees the moves, foretells the plan, The network spins, both near and far. The people bring him word and more, They whisper softly, night and day, what they are waiting for. He sinks deep in the game's embrace, He knows it all, he sets the pace.
The president and his escort too, Are manipulated, right on cue. A master of deceit, refined, He knows how fates are intertwined. The corrective force, it seems to be, This shadow man, the player, he.
Chess, a grand and mighty game, Who knows it, feels its burning flame. You pull the strings, you guide the hand, A puppeteer, you understand. He sees the moves, foretells the plan, The network spins, both near and far. The people bring him word and more, They whisper softly, night and day, what they are waiting for. He sinks deep in the game's embrace, He knows it all, he sets the pace.
Loneliness surrounds his heart, No love to play a single part. He stays the player, ever bound, In his own spell, he's always found. Who starts to play the world's great game, May dig a grave for all our name.
The world's his board, he knows each square, The moves he makes, beyond compare. We think we know, we understand, A bleak design, across the land. Who still can hope, against the odds, Has seen the world, and all its frauds.
It happens, though we disapprove, Much good remains, the world to prove. Man swore his oath, to make things right, The devil's pact, released from night. What he now wants, and what he can do, Will captivate, no more, the few.
Chess, a grand and mighty game, Who knows it, feels its burning flame. You pull the strings, you guide the hand, A puppeteer, you understand.
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Brangassivo's FeedBy Mathias Schneider