I’m lost

I’ve accounted for all the hiccups

All the songs in time and stride

When preoccupations of vice and jest disgust your last atom

I spill the wine of blood of ordeal of wine of blood of…

Never the last generation, it continues

Well, I see we all know there may be some solace

But in the individual?

Not much love

I miss so much

And I think of lost opportunities

But perhaps you are happy there

Without me

Perhaps you all are happy without me in your lives

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