Tell me a lie
I'll be the first to fall
Give me an offer unofferable
Imagine the warmth
In those tiny hands
That held onto a penance
I didn't deserve
Don't it feel like a knife
In the back of your head?
And it reeks like an afterthought rotten and said
Maybe something got lost or forgotten instead
Oh, and I'm bound by a trunk
With a few memories
Of how you burn through your lovers
It's like an ugly disease
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