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Suicide mission
We’re fucked if we listen
But we have to go

Then again
There again
Against the odds

Like Vietnam
Two-point-oh
At a loss

Desperate
Broken
Wired up

We can feel our
Neurons tear
And fibers snap

Like they’re cables
Of a bridge
Or a telephone line

Crossed lines
Like a hotline
To why

We listen
And keep wits
In grit to comply

Our mission
Our suicide mission

We’re fucked if we listen

But we have to go

Filed under: November Era (III)