| Sociopath, compulsive liar, delusionist
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| Certified schizophrenic, abused and plasmatic
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| Since conception is what
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| The doctors report revealed about Mort
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| He manipulated them with lies
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| Now he’s free, back in society
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| Cured with pills and psychotherapy
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| But the scars of mother’s words remain
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| Victim of life at a futile age
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| As he drives down the street
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| He can see the ghosts here to remind him
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| And their faces in the trees
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| He can hear them call his name in the windy breeze
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| The souls that were taken away
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| Thinking his medication is not working
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| He can see the walking dead
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| Smelling their scent, viewing their gutless cavities
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| Strangulation marks around their neck
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| They speak to him and retreat
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| Lust of their memories, as they perished
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| Fills his deceitful mind, the urge for new fantasies
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| He can’t contain, although he tries
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| Everyday the ghosts return
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| And ask why you did this to me
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| I’ll never know you, I’ll haunt you till I die
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| You took us from our loved ones
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| You violated my eternal shell
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| Mutilated forever, I will haunt you
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| Mort replies, mother created this
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| Blame it all on her, I have been immortalized
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| My illness has given the power of divination
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| I saved you from your own hell
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| My volition to kill has perverse me
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| I loved you all, even though you did not know me
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| But now you are here and I remember the look
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| In your eyes as you died
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| My volition fur lust shall never set me free
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| Until I die, you are a prisoner to me
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| In the next dimension I will be king
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| Through my divination and volition
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| I will succeed |