and I'm too old
to find god!
All the faces I've invented
the tales I told
when I was
sick as a dog!
Will history remember
London in november?
My memory is a stanger
at home in troubled water!
My walls are painted
in shades of cold
like my blood!
All the murders I've commited
the souls I've sold
when I was
in the cosmic fog!
Will history remember
London in november?
My memory is a stranger
at home in troubled water!
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