| To whom it may concern: I’m born at last!
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| I’m in my world, my tranquility…
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| And the smell of my flesh annoys me
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| And the scabs on my scales tend to itch
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| And my eyes sometimes liquity
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| So at times it’s hard to see…
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| I crawl upon a dead dog, lying on the edge of a pool of blood
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| I watch as flies encircle the carcass, and the dog, we make love…
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| And the cries from the dark scare me
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| And the insects in my flesh tend to itch
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| And the sky is always black
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| And in the dog my body bleeds…
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| To whom it may concern: at last I’m dying!
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| Leaving my world, my place of rest…
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| And the beasts without flesh sing to the dark
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| And their music is the love for hate
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| And I die, and I live, so I may die again
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| And when I wake I’ve found tranquility… |