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Make Room In That Coffin

 Death frosted over as I'm looking for an escape. Dreaming of another world while stuck in a rut with a body scaling in skin. So many days are left just thinking of how many lives could be lost within someone's head in the span of morning, noon and night and all inbetween. I'm the one creeping out hoping no-one lets me in. 

Plastic embrace, wasted face. The thoughts of yesterday's lip fillers aimed high but no killers. Disappear into the outlet of memory. The thoughts fleeing into the recess of it all. I don't remember the standard life we had planned. And yet I don't understand how I feel when there's nothing left to feel but the pain inside my body. The hoodoo voodoo dolls got me good. I'm just surprised they haven't killed me yet.

You can see it all in the varnished truth that stakes its claim in lies. The machine we know so well can let us in on an answer that is being kept out by official sources. Smears, slurs and lies, the outlet of the rich descending across the nation, happily deciding the politics of every other nation. Dead heat = dead meat - we're in deep shit. The perameters of time won't heal us from the destruction we face.

Whatever you do, make room in that coffin for me. Whatever you see, don't tell them my name! 

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