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Your Twisted Parade

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You hold the years I gave to you
In your aggressive hand

And with the other, stroke the unknown
Gleaming trophy stand

A treasure put before me
For the best of this charade

As you carry on, like nothing’s wrong
In your twisted, fake parade

Leaving me behind like dust
Collected in the ditch

But marching on, hand in hand
With your new acquired witch

I hope you understand
That she is all that you have left

‘Cause when I’m gone, you’ll not hear from me
Until we meet in death



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