What are these strange forces that keep me?
Writing, writing and more writing
Stupid thing to do when there’s no one
Floating in the air
Masquerade, this unreal fair
Never mind those lyrics coming like
Flies gathering around the carcass
Sweet nectar from my-marc as
Only if I could stop this force I will
Talk to you in Morse
Let the messengers bring you the good
News, grey clouds, sharp swords
Those warriors sent by my scenario
Chariots, putrefactions, angels are here
To tell me worry-none you write
So dead near.
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