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Ends are sometimes beginnings I need to get myself out of here Ends are the reflections of beginnings, it’s a simple mirror Is everything the same? Dead in the hall of lame Right now you and I are in between the beginning and the middle My bones are snapping, crackling and are brittle I need to know, what’s on the other side? For now I’ll let it slide Slide down my back, off my feet What is complete? Is it fullness of the heart? Or a lucky throw of the dart This reflection is not me, I’m lost But life is still well worth it’s cost So here I go and venture into the middle Me myself and I; piano, guitar and fiddle My one and only crew Some find me and my inanimate, music playing objects, infectious like the flu Just a lucky throw of the dart Is it fullness of the heart? My one and only crew Some find me and my inanimate music playing objects infectious like the flu Then on some days I find myself in between the middle and the end At writing I’m not that great, not to offend But life is still well worth it’s cost This reflection is not me, I’m lost I need a lucky throw of the dart Is it fullness of the heart? What is complete? Slide down my back, off my feet For now I’ll let it slide I need to know, what’s on the other side? Then I find myself in the end Things don’t always break sometimes they bend Dead in the hall of lame Is everything the same? Beginnings are the reflections of ends, it’s a simple mirror I need to get myself out of here Beginnings are sometimes ends