Conscience has me easily disturbed
The moving things around me makes me weep
Why can't they stop so I can see them properly?
It makes me wonder if I'm slightly in daze
My hands are thrown into a great fire
My inner ear is singing
Singing like a huge church choir
Decomposition of my eyes won't help my vision
This isn't quite as funny anymore
Corpsepaint isn't really necessary
I haven't got a pulse anyway
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