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Grave Apparel
Dead skin, brown and broken sits
Strung in a monstrous mishmash
Trodden down by pompous feet
And those that gaze may wonder
Why tortured skin
should be worn by a fool’s sinister foot
The dead era still walks free
Rapping coldly on the floor
Treading the path of righteousness
Though on occasion
Thieves set upon this broken body
To set it where men do not seek
Watching from on high
For the dead to reclaim the dead
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