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Desperate Cry for Help 043
I feel ill. I'm all green and blue and yuck.
This is what life is all about
You bastards keep on sticking these needles and giving me pills
And now I'm some zombie-shuffling chemically-enhanced bastard for you
And maybe there's a cure, or perhaps I should just do the graceful thing and die, who knows, it might make a change.
Black and black and black forever
I would become perfectly predictable, all for you
Just rotting here, stinking, doing my best, to be bloated with gas, a new wave methane corpse for the people
It's not that I mind the whole death thing
I just would rather you do it for me instead
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