| Death is callous, strange and sudden
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| A pious, indignant, drooling glutton
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| Whose hands are soft, warm, inviting
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| Whose desperate advances seem useless fighting
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| Whose ragged tooth should rip through flesh
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| Which marinates in rancid breath
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| How quick one turns to a violent death
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| When cowardice remains where courage left
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| No guiding light to lead the way
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| Just rot declining to decay
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| The would-be hangman hangs its head
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| To find its victim not quite dead
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| But rising now from beneath the gallows
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| A driving force cuts through the shadows
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| Strike from the heart, cut to the quick
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| With no remorse it’s politic
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| With crippling blows to the body and head
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| Drip by drip until it’s finally bled out
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| One moment defines a lifetime
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| No one recalls the crawl or the climb
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| Or the trembling legs that take the first two steps
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| Or the moment the lungs decide to take breath
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| The darkness comes to life
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| Underneath its cloak beat the blood red eyes
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| Whose haunting stare leaves one paralyzed
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| This is the nightmare from which one never awakes
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| Laughing at the feeble whose whole body shakes
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| Who pounce upon the weakness and the past mistakes
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| Whose hands grip the heart and cause the heartbreak
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| So strike from the heart, cut to core
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| Leave only the sinew washed up on the shore
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| Sever the head of the beast with the crown
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| Never back down
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| (Back down)
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| Never back down
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| And as the light breaks through the darkest night
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| It finds the victor dressed in white
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| Rising now from beneath the gallows
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| A driving force cuts through the shadows |