so many pretty young things, all straight off to hell,
what a pity to watch when it all started so well.
there is a grander scheme at work that mine, but whats the fuss?whats the fuss?
improvisation, guessing not knowing, learning and growing is the way they get by.
and i've become one of those words that you repeat till the meaning is gone, over and over and over.
the truth will out and the lies will shout their tales from the rooftops.
Baby, it's a massacre, and you.ve got blood on your idle hands.
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