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Bitter
Left out in the Cold,
Still young and feeling old
This taste makes me unwanted.
You have a Life and always flaunt it
Then We’re thrown upon the Fire
and, Wow! How the Flames Shoot Higher
and Yet Your blackened corpse still
tastes better then I Ever Will
even if I’m pulled off Quicker
and eaten with a lot of liquor
I’ll Never touch the GRANDNESS of Your Life.
Yet here I stand, knife in hand,
Ready to End Our Strife