If Thoughts Could Kill, We'd Both be Deader Than a Week-Old Corpse

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Please abuse me with fists perfectly formed. Bite off my tongue so i wont say a word (The anger dulls your beauty) (The alcohol washes it completely away)... A cantankerous cacophony of calamity. Consume conscience but claim control. (And its only now I realize that i've overexposed myself)... I no longer believ