You know that I'm dead so stop butchering me
My eyes are all glazed from pills pushed in to deep
We all die one day, I came sooner then most
I chose to forsake, I gave in to my host
The finger has been pricked; you've tasted the blood
What's hard to predict is the end of the flood
The ongoing cry of souls lost in the wake
It's the one that I fear; it's the one I create
 
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