| The tremendous weight of my burdened past
|
| Has become too much to bear
|
| How heavy the pen grows with each stroke
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| When the words will never be shared
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| Bury me with my crooked quill
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| Let us weep and mourn alone
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| As for the volumes of texts over which I have slaved
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| May they be burnt and forgotten
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| All these pages I’ve written for no one
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| I’ll be long gone before they’re ever read
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| There is no hope
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| No belief in salvation
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| And I’ve grown too tired to care
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| I’ve found that
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| There is no point
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| No greater purpose
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| We were all designed to fail
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| Bury me with my crooked quill
|
| Let us weep and mourn alone
|
| As for the volumes of texts over which I have slaved
|
| May they be burnt and forgotten
|
| I want to be rid of my life
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| And everything I’ve ever felt
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| If you won’t take it from me, God
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| I’ll take it from myself
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| This is for the friends who act as foes
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| This is my resignation from the human race
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| This is for the family that betrays
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| This is my resignation from the human race
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| This for the world that turned it’s back
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| This is my resignation from the human race
|
| This is my resignation from the human race |