Vacate is the word...vengeance has no place so near to her Cannot find a comfort in this world Artificial tears... the vessel stabbed...next up, volunteers Vulnerable, wisdom can't adhere...
A truant finds home...and a will to hold on... There's a trapdoor in the sun...immortality...
As privileged as a whore...victims in demand for public show Swept out through the cracks beneath the door Holier than thou, how? Surrendered...executed anyhow Scrawl dissolved, cigar box on the floor...
A truant finds home...and a will to hold on to... Theres a trapdoor in the sun...
Immortality... I cannot stop the thought...of running out the door... Coming up, a which way sign, all good truants must decide Oh, stripped and sold, mom... and an auctioned forearm... And whiskers in the sink... As Truant finds home...and a will to hold on, to, Some die just to live... Ohh...
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