meaningless toil

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And as the ashes subsides,
And all that is left,
Is the smell of the extinguished fire.

When your body is burning,
And your mind, nostalgic.
You look back at what has happened
But all you see is fire.

And the mourns of the dead ,
With the mourns of the living,
Emits from your voice.

When you can think of nothing,
Because there is nothing left.
You can't help but laughing,
At the state of your own despair.

So you stand there like a madman.
As all your fears subsides.
And all of your hopes,
And all of your dreams,
Lie now in your hands.

You know you have everything,
But again you are left with nothing, And you know you have achieved everything,
But you know have never achieved anything.


The Dead Revolutionary

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