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The end of all good things
Finger nails curled over the piano bench
Death has come with foul stench
Prissy lips placed gently on the high class men
This blood is thicker then ink of pen
Lies held heavily over the clueless audience
This has become caged within a fence
At last the words come spoken loudly
“Come one, come all, you must now see; a tragic obsequy”
The sharpest knives place in the innocents backs
The bodies laying in heaping stacks
The fires burning within the trumpets blare
The dainty whores come oh so fair
Softly lain fingers upon the harps gold strings
So fast comes end of all good things
Then came on words so sad
“Come one, come all, you must now see” an obsequy within obsequy”
This is my honey, and is my milk
I give my soul, so freely
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I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
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