|
keep us silent |
|
and diverted |
|
drug me, corporate gods |
|
we were eager |
|
to forget |
|
now we hail the blade unmasked |
|
toward death |
|
toward the sun |
|
this needle poised in flesh |
|
drink from this lunacy |
|
and bite the hand that made you man |
|
and when springtime comes |
|
with awkward little steps |
|
to the land that mourns for me |
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do not rush |
|
do not fear |
|
the silent frequency (of lust) |
|
and the sun goes down |
|
and death is all around |
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and the secret son lies down |
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and death is here to drown |
|
and everything's falling down |
|
and death is but another crown |