…how darkly the dark hand met his end, he was withered and boney, exposed for a phoney, but we heed the last words that he penned, “haste to disgrace the traitor, do not wait til later”. I don’t think that you’ve got to pretend, I see God in birds and Satan in long words, but I know what you need in a friend, so now when I leave you, I hope I won’t see you…
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