Sometimes I feel like a mantis
No need to analyze this
I will always pursue truth
And find my John Wilkes Booth
And end up happy, decapitated
A soul, hers consecrated
The things we do for love
In the hopes of divinity above
Someday, to find a grip
Head over shoulders I will slip
Just to sign my resignation
From her hearts gravitation
To look for another’s zeal
I'll never appeal.
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