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Hands Of The Martyr Disconsolate
How many times have I told myself," It's the last time."
Digging deeper, I fall into this hellish place and depression holds me under and
They say "avoid hypocrisy"
Our minds endorse security
My hell's a place where I cannot stand to look at myself
Oh, my hell makes my nightmares look light paradise
Oh, I wish this on nobody else
One moment climbing, a partial high
Next moment dragging through my despair
Thoughts of becoming immortal...
In essence burning my dignity
And though it seems I'm falling, I will not hit the ground
Set free!