As the leaves fall yellowing like aged paper, thoughts turn acrid and curl
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like cigarette smoke rising from a butt ground out on my arm. Step into this
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decay and experience dissolution. Crucified on a plank of cruelty, crucified
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on a plank of apathy to sleep the winter away. Immobile for the cold
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duration. Huddled in isolation, to sleep the winter away.
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Lies Of Autumn
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| Lamb Of God |
