All is dead
Decorated walls
Post love
pain in his head
Flowers bloom
His past is
but a bore
Cleaning for
room
Nature is
but a whore
Summer heat
And phone
calls sail
Hatred they
have beat
Where’s the
coffin and the nail
Fall leaves
crumble
Shades of
simple lying
Tempo has
hit a fumble
As their beauty
is found while dying
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