In fact, you’re already dead.

What ghastly arms you have 

To hold yourself up with 

The girls tries desperately

Her soul wanders on restlessly

Leaving her body, where they cause harm

Ahead the miles stretch 

The soul swirls into the fruition 

Of a Tricksters moment of acquisition

Oblivion, his knifes edge

Slow, slow

Remember the body 

It drowns, and drowns and drowns

Resting, on a bloody underbody 

What ghastly arms I have

To hold myself up with

Cessation occurs 

And I fall, into the abyss. 

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