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Texty: Two Gallants. Daytrotter Session. Damnatio Memoriae.


Well, it?s just the fault of circumstance
The game of youth, the threat of chance
And I can?t seem to find another way
To justify my loss of words
But some day, they say I?ll be cured
But be assured I?ll always be this way
And we all suffer guilt and shame
In the frame of skin and bones
Little one, you?re not alone
I think it?s time you stepped out of the shade
But who among your chosen ones?
Am I to be so bold to the one who can?t be told?
No, don?t believe a single thing I say

But I recall that night right well
You stood the streets while darkness fell
Said you could tell I had something to say
Well I tried to leave, but you said no
That eventually we all must go
So we search the town to find out why we stay
But now the day?s are growing thin
And the leaves litter the streets
And the fog infests my sheets
And we?re each too scared to even greet the day
And all those resolutions unfulfilled, I?ll soon repeat
Can?t escape my own deceit
Oh I do intend to meet myself someday

It sickens me to see you now
With your pursed lips and your purchased crowd
Spouting out self-evidence as proof
But you are virtue, you are why
Mothers weep and young men die
For just the sight of the pyrite of your tombs
But what shames me the most
My dear, is the hate you left behind
In the shadows of my mind
and the cold outlines,
Where once you used to lay
So I?ll pour out this potting glass
And attempt to wash my hands
Of what your memory demands
No, I never planned for things to end this way
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