Death calls to me and I usually listen
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It is as if it is holding out its hand waiting for me to grab
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hold and ease the tension of living by ending
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Sometimes I'm so eager to take hold of this
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but my palm is sweating with consequence
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I'm afraid I might slip
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So I simply shake hands
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All these suicidal passions...
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Is it my fault that reality is the greatest killer of them all?
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Not death, it is merely a necessity
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Eventually leading to my destruction
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Forever
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-----------------
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Not Death
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| Matt Zane |
