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Can we be pardoned and excused For not getting what we deserved?
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The world is a lie and it kills the best in us
indiscriminately without any remorse.
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When the world is on fire you will stand
and be judged for each and every sin.
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I stand here now in jeopardy every hour
obsessed with a past I cannot expunge.
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I never cared for you, yet you believed
I did, so I took advantage of it at will.
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No one could protect her, she knew better
and followed every whim that seized her.
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I have succumbed to the temptations
of my desires far too often it seems.
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Some people are just doomed
and cannot be saved.
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If I were the man you wanted I wouldn’t feel
like I am not at all worthy of your hand.
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I found out all the lies are true so long ago
and little surprises me in this day and age.
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I am going to dispose all pretenses and attack you
straight out here. The language won’t be highflown
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Some women walk right in and reach for your heart
inspiring a crazy longing to know them well.
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I am alone this world and seem to be facing
an insurmountable sense of loss I cannot share.
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You are a wide load of deliverance on a damnation track
temporarily at a loss and more than a little out of whack
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You tolerated the attentions of lesser men
than what you deserved bringing only pain.
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I think of the children I never had, and the love
that I so desperately wanted to share and give.
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I came of age in a world I did not expect
to find when I reached that lofty height.
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I had to lose my mind before I could regain
even a measure of what brought me there.
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You stay on guard against old behaviors,
yet they return fully formed in your life.
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I now decry the tyranny of dreams,
those grand ambitions never fulfilled.
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You manipulative cunt, you tattler of tales,
you are using me for what you can, I know.
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I tried to stay healthy for you, I tried so hard
but could never quite break from that crowd.
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Often times you would silently pray
let me have her,
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In the cold hard dawn of our loss,
in the dream just before sleep.
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I am War,
the raw open-throated blues shout of Mars,
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Bid him passage with the chisel of tribute,
offer every form of courtesy, legacy, or salute;
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I was a chaos junkie dead set on filling my needs
in any manner necessary, I’d go to such an extent.
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I have been searching for a new voice
that can accurately
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Throwing up at two in the morning, it’s
glamour and romance,
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Drunk writers and dead presidents,
tarnished golden harmonicas lying in the rain,
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Call it the city of no concern.
You grow old before you even know what happens.
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You were a dissipated clown near the end,
you ceased taking care of yourself at all.
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You sold your body for a place to sleep and a bottle,
you sold your body for a eight-ball of dope and
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Those parasitic and self-concerned
bastards can all leave me alone now.
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I now for you pronounce a prayer
to give you peace, life and protection.
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