Fit my body like a two-step
Like sepulchre shadows
Like hanging gallows
Your tongue is a virus
Spread to intoxicate
Free-hand style of my past
Recorded in your silver
eyedrops, sing to sleep
The waking of my nightmares
Arose in search of tainting
Like tungsten kisses, chill me
Like neomycin portraits, sustain
My mind, in its perfect pathways
Led to redeem your future's soul
Betwixt its fainting pictures
Freed to restore my hearts inclination
My sweet and bleeding soul suffocation
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