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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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Whether experiencing pedestrian filth
Or the sublime reversed depth of the beauty I find myself always – a dead man on duty – Wondering amongst you in silence and stealth There’s always a shadow in my brightest light My mornings are always excuses for evenings Bygone is the freshness of early beginnings Bygone is the mystery of mystical night In thousands of eyes I can find no reflection My being is putrid, it’s rotten inside Oh, God, if I’d find you, I’d give you a bribe For finishing earlier my earthly detention
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