Grotesque Gambling
Memories turned bittersweet
Starting to make the room smell with the foul stench of our corpse’s rotting meat
Here lie our bodies in a vicious defeat
Shall we take a seat?
As our time seems to be up
With the little life around our remains
We might still flip a dime
I choose tails to make you mine
You choose heads to put us to bed
That’s how we wound up dead
Finally put our sob story to a tragic end
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