No matter how long I will endure the song,
Take a breath as it stings for long,
I will eat the flies of disease decay,
To feel the sorrow of death may lay,
Rot away as my time slithers at bay,
A thousand knives tear flesh I fray,
Torn I scorn I languid this way,
Look upon as the gray fills my soul,
A hollow black surge of whimsical fold,
Untold stories of disasters so cold,
A winter of disgrace too void to replace,
I laugh as glass rips apart my face
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