O damned fate! How I wish I had not been born,
To be so pestered and irked with whips of scorn.
Shut, Shut thy ears to this boisterous world,
Lest its cries of revelry will turn you cold.
O how I detest those in merriment spurn
The truth of life, and are bashful to learn.
But they thrive and top this bogus life ladder,
And I, cursed I, nag, wail and is torn asunder.
O those junky bastards with their reason preach,
Wreck faith, imbue fear and ebb as we screech.
Daring indeed to search truth and pretend wise,
Whilst they keep masked faces forged in lies.
To die is not to be as tranquil as we sleep,
Or else we would buy it at a price so steep.

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