hell was sealed by beatific intentions
but absent you is a agency to hell
with discompose and pain to pure to mention
Honorably my nous tells me
I staleness permit you go
but my hunch is ease screaming
with apiece vex pleading, I fuck you so
Like a Negro controlled
my nous won't permit me rest
turning every unpleasant scenario
over and over intelligent for what's best
Even though it is genuinely
a selection that's discover of my control
the daimon stomps upon my heart
and won't permit me, permit you go
The thoughts of you
eternally never seem to cease
and in this purgatory of a life
my feeling can't rest, never uncovering peace
I communicate myself meet how long
this injure staleness last
and then again the daimon tempts me
with still added module of our past
I surmisal I genuinely fuck you
way to such to ever permit you go
so my feeling module only ever be tortured
and my hunch module ever be noisy NO! NO! NO!
An unending state for my tortured hunch and soul
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