Tommorrows are just yesterdays,
in which everybody knows.
Time has created circumstance,
to make all your worries flow.
For on that morning that seems like night,
you will try your best to scream.
And your dying words will not be heard,
in the darkest of your dreams.
For promises and soft goodbyes,
will cloud your weary mind.
And everything thats ever happened,
to you will come in time.
Your toungue will be cut and your sight will be lost,
your mind and your bones will break.
Into the fire your body be tossed,
all for the reaper to take.
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