A Taste of Morbid Bliss
Dead Whore River
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A pale image of a utopia ambles amidst our minds
Bringing the preordained suffering only happiness can provide
Awaiting disaster
Life is a massacre
Awaiting disaster
A taste of morbid bliss
A holocaust of opinions circulate when one creates
Dissected by the mental abyss joyful harps become a serpents hiss
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Smiles come
And turn into frowns
Worlds shatter
In an instant
Life is drown
To truly know happiness one must know sorrow
Tender petals of a beautiful rose have a body of thorns
Thats how they grow
A taste of morbid bliss