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I never thought I’d live alone
by my own volition
I thought this curs-ed life of mine
was merely superstition
but then, one night, my sweetheart said
my life: her dream’s fruition
and satisfying her desire
was my life and mission
I thought it strange, but didn’t argue,
for I love tradition,
and just between you and I,
her words gave me ambition
and not a day before had passed
without some inhibition
but then the more that I mulled
it seemed to me submission,
and that was truly quite the waste
of this apparition
I’ll never spend my second life
serving my mortician,
she carved her name into my skull
and dripped upon it wax
so I sent her off to Hell,
to, at last, relax
I sing a song to myself
just to pierce the silence
and every time a mortal knocks
I get to taste some violence
these halls, at last, are my own,
devoid of fucking heartbeats
and finally, I am alone
and free from Cherisse.

merry christmas, you filthy heathens :)

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