| IT | ||||||
| It creeps inside my head And slowly dignifies It sleeps beneath my bed And somehow justifies It burns about my soul Creating more desire It yearns to take it's toll Reforming me, the liar It grows about my mind Surrounds my solitude It slows my hope to find While morals become crude It set the record wrong Destruction takes it's course It let my death prolong This being of remorse |
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| Derek James | ||||||