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This Is Hell
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The Absentee Ballot
A million candles line these streets
Back home, there's just melted wax on the concrete
And I recall a heart so pure that it ceased to beat
I haven't said nearly enough
But I've already said far too much
These are the best and worst things
We will ever get, so don't forget
Back home, they curse our names
But good or bad we all rot the same
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