Forfeit This Routine Lyrics (by ten thousand leagues)
Monotony misanthropy for this useless routine.
Raised arms forfeiting to right our wrongs.
As vultures fell from the clouds to devour weary poachers,
I extend my discerning dreams of a disgust with a child bearing a wooden cross.
How could we have spoiled such sweet fruit? let us carve this wood into nothing.
A mother standing blank faced, her child wandering this dirty floor.
She molded his youth into a rotted existence…
She asked herself, "What have I done? What could have I done?" She cheats herself.
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