It is Late as I write this and All my Friends are Ded Ded Ded

It is late while I'm writing and all of my friends have died

It is dark while I'm typing and the world screams outside

The windows are open but I'm not trying to hide

My friends then aren't friends now because they've all died

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Don't trust the one who tells you he's true,

Or the lady who promises closure.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmWSGg2dNtH

Don't let that lady make love to you,

And that man is all but kosher.

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He'll say you were him, she says you were hers,

But read between the drapes and see the scorch marks

He saw you on a whim, she thinks you're a purse,

Whether money or chance, the whole world's just farce.

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But, in you let them, gave your trust, thrust the door open

Then, then they leached until you were bone only left.

So, you were left with no choice and kept beating till the bones were broken.

Now, as you write, we are one and I will commit no more theft.

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As we both know, you and I

In so much of our moral lies,

That theft of life is a crime

All left alone, that my friends are died.

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Ded ded ded ded ded ded ded

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Safe.

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