We’re 5 minutes apart.

Cause in this world? Your worlds restricted. 
When curtains shine through blackness. We play and then we’re victim
Every person out to get us. And every person tries compassion?
It’s more than mere prediction. There the serpent lies unchallenged
But you whirl and try to damage. Cause you’re weak and your worlds afflicted.
But to no concern to you, that serpent turns into a worser type of dragon
You’re hurt. Your mind abandons. No service. Wires. Synapses
The sadness morphs to scene addiction. Your journeys right of passage
Feel worthless. I have had it. And addiction turns to habit.
Fervid. Decline to comment. You persons can’t certainly try to fathom!
What’s become or what’s to come. But you can read it in description
The words are tiny, and they’re captioned.  Then you hurl up your prescriptions.
It’s tightly woven. Mixture of ambition. Has slowly earned it’s actions.
Artist dies with his work, and this model just burns inside the pageant
It’s of worth, and it’s off-course. The piercing pains pans in. AND I want more
Of course what’s written inside the diction, are more than I could manage
It’s the purpose. And these conditions. Are perfect. my mind is madness.
And remember, y
ou can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.

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