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i wake up from bad dreams,
my sorrow is almost up to the seams.
as i breath in polluted air,
in a dangerous city square.
i think about all the things Ive lost,
You my mind and fortune all to cost.
i may be insane and out of my mind,
but you'll find i am most kind.
i find myself looking down a rifle,
to take out my anger on another life,
because with other lives its no trifle,
and most often its too mush strife,
and i just want to use a knife.