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S.U.I.C.I.D.E.

Sitted right here, a few inches from hell
Somewhere into that pit, an angel fell
And me? I’m waiting for a ring, a bell
Might have tolled already, never did listen well
 
I’m dying, a death beautiful as a poppy flower
Death by opium, dying this very lonely hour
I feel it now, this dark and ghostly power
God’s gift of life, how did it ever turn sour?

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