'Cos it’s the ones that you love,
that will hurt you the most.
Sometimes you wish they’d die
Because you can’t get cut by a ghost.

But that’s the voice of a coward
Like Ben Burnanke infront of congress,
Complexed wrongness
Leads to bong hits.

I’ve walked several times,
To Hell and back,
Old flame and fiery tendrils appeal
When there’s a storm on your back.

I’ll ...

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