| Sometimes it seems like it can only be difficult
|
| Odd moments of peace may disguise the impending doom
|
| But the dissent rages, if not in one then in another
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| And all sense of hope is culled
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| Searching for utopia, only to find stagnation and disappointment
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| The ego bloodied and torn, yet grasping still
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| Desperate to find the one reason so great
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| It might justify this unending time of unrest
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| All that you are is a parasite
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| A leech that would drain the last drop
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| And offer only arrogance and silent indignation in return
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| I am done with days skulking in the blindness of false bliss
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| Dead is the will to believe
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| Crushed is the hope, buried in the blackest seas
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| Memories are stark, damaged, bleak
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| Aghast with misery
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| Destined for failure, future is only the betrayer of hope
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| No sustenance on which it could feed
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| This vessel lay empty now, rotting in dereliction
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| Frozen in time, as the last fragment falls to the earth
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| Like some deathly tear |