Trough the searching lights that weave and dart comes the stranger that Cares not for your heart The pain of living life this way must take its toll on you some day. Your jaded eyes can see embarrassment or harm the frail skin That bleeds emotionally on guard. All lowest forms of life are pounding you inside Your hollow cold display your tired masquerade let the image that you Present entice Unlike the mirror that shows the strains of vice this act of contact your Decay while Willing souls will more that pay.
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