i burn in love’s hell where billions are driven
in circles without end, and they know it.
i pray to my love equally burning, beheaded and all.
she carries the faces whose names have been given.
a scary old porter hands down the sods
to poorly dressed dancers and hungry old men.
downward they go, into the tumbler, screaming
for mercy but mercy’s in jersey giving a show.
now love’s hell can be a shell and i know you can cook
up y’r poems better than me but here’s what you see:
all of your faces and all of your names
all have been written in one single book
so one day for sure, you’ll all end up like me.
input: 3-12-2020 @23:04 GMT+1 for ‘more songs’
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