Cold shivers run down my icy spine
In a mid-day of June,
At it's best when it's glass-smooth.
I carve out circles in my mind,
Where nothing exists until something is placed.
The red ink writes in black and blue,
And your thoughts stretch
As part of the body of an elastic band.
Using the influential imprint of death,
As tears shed between the walls of reality,
We'll never see the day
Until the choirs of the vanished sing.
Take this lethal dosage
And sing your last song.
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