You Spend Literally All Your Life Finding Guests For Your Funeral

A Sense of Illusion
Perhaps a contamination
I can feel the hours slipping away
When we're together, oblivious to the weather
I can't feel the hours slipping away

Why am I so confused?
I know I'm being used
I could take a long walk, Where I've got to found a place for a clown
I could laugh about it
Or cry about my laughing fit
But I know I'll always be down



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