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Sunday 20 December 2009

The Gun on me...

Mystery is a game left with only unknown scars,
Which you can dance by sleeping into a road of hell,
Surround yourself with a cell,
Try and sell your bloody body
Never put forward your damned smell
I want to go pale while your very skin is on sale,
I long to disappear just as you are to become pear,
A farewell to your inaccessibility...

written by
Ok-Em
for my hatred...

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