There's a crack at the edge of the end of the world.
where i will sit with my love in this flourescent swirl.
Eat us up, break it down to the tiniest cell
in a room with a view and a window to hell.
With those who bury bodies in the barrels of fun
will be marched through museums that display what they've done.
They'll be shot up through the sky by a cannon of sin
and we'll reluctantly let them in.
so can i lie in your grave?
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