| Recently bereaved
|
| A tourist with no trail
|
| Distant from the sane
|
| That voice repeats a phrase
|
| Does such confusion
|
| Serve to amuse you?
|
| Change the gruesome tune
|
| Talk to a lonesome traveller
|
| Yet there’s nobody else in here
|
| The ache of loss is so severe
|
| I shiver in the chromosphere
|
| And miss machine found her soulmate
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| That swine 6942.8
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| He lasts all night without a break
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| Her lubricant, my one keepsake
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| I’ve witnessed tortures
|
| Lows life should not know
|
| The most hellish place
|
| Lies inside the mind
|
| Do my delusions
|
| Serve to amuse you?
|
| These traveller’s wounds?
|
| In this ocean of emptiness
|
| I sail alone under duress
|
| In my decline I’ve acquiesced
|
| Madness and guilt did coalesce
|
| Plagued by a visit to the past
|
| An impotent iconoclast
|
| Whose vision of that final dance
|
| Will make a grave for circumstance
|
| Ego is such a reckless beast
|
| An enemy of the deceased
|
| The poisoned soul with no retreat
|
| Turn back, accept you face defeat
|
| Moros has an ambassador
|
| Grieving his lifeless passenger
|
| If you like passions massacred
|
| Talk to the lonesome traveller |