burn these tragedies leading up to destruction
black suits in a tall building, burn it to the ground
every one was a tragedy to their own funeral
send out the undying message that miss fortune will never come
as we clean out this city tonight
the brain rots and the infection begins
we are left with the ground burning
my voice has screamed out this old tune once before
cover my lungs with the blue dress i saw you in
this is my grave six feet above the ground
and im building a city for the dead.
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