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Apathy
Here we are at the masquerade ball,
Look around you and see all the people,
In their masks of cool and collected,
Feel the tension rising,
With the smell of burning flesh.
Watch as they so eloquently,
Waltz on broken glass,
Over piles of bodies,
With blistered feet,
Dance to the beat of death.
Here we are at the masquerade ball,
Smell the gaseous fumes,
Watch as people fall like dominos,
Their masks are ones of doom.
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