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HIS SORROWFUL TUNE
Why must the man sing such a sorrowful tune?
Bounching off the walls it echoes the room.
Melting into sadness he was a sight for sorry eyes.
For all night long he would weep, he would cry.
His wrists would bleed onto the floor,
for he could not feel the pain anymore.
He could not speak, he could not breathe.
For he had buried it all, way too deep.
It cut him sharply, it burned within.
All that was left, was worthless to him.
And so he sung his sorrowful tune.
Until it was his time to visit the moon.
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