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Never Sing Again.
What it’s like to be dead.
My fingers split at the seams,
From hours of futile travail.
I'll never get back these six feet.
Buried alive and destined to fail.
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Drown.
Full Collapse.
Disappear.
Autumn Leaves.
Exhausted.
Trap Doors.
Rot.
War.
Tasting Iron.
Your walls.
Drought.
Drift, Sink, Die.
Tonight Tonight.
Illusions.
Vanity.
Father Time.
Your melody is my company.
What it’s like to be dead.
Character Flaws.
You always were a wishful thinker.
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