| Why…
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| Am I as naught? |
| Would I solely be …
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| … a mere collage of regrets?
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| Fierce melancholy, let me dare
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| A journey to the epic within
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| To all known pleasures and pains
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| So would you guide me through my frescoed halls
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| To gaze and to see what I could achieve?
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| Let me marvel at myself as the absolute entity
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| And carry me towards the pinnacle of knowledge
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| My sweet child, of course I could…
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| Although there’s one thing you ought to heed
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| Your most squalid sense shall be what I need
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| Is that it? |
| Nothing more? |
| Hahaha ha, so take it from me!
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| I choose your sense of hearing, my son
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| As the key to your ever-verdant plains of wisdom
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| And now betake yourself to experience majesty, hihihi
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| Chaos distilled to a unity
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| Impressions reduced to the fantastic
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| I vex the gods' minds with my intelligence
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| As I perforate the hymen of Great Alma Mater
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| I am god — only one — ever was — and ever will be!
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| Pitiable little imbecile, audacious and avid,
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| If you could only listen to your equal precessors,
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| Intoning wildly in delight:
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| Ave Mater, Morituri Te Salutant
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| Imbellicus Animo
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| Creatio Ex Nihilo
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| Cursed be my sonic reminescence!
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| Has the leader of this pas-de-deux
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| Been myself or treacherous you?
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| The affection I bore you was unreturned — ama et fac quo vis
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| Awed by your beauty and deafened by harmonies — non omnis moriar…
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| Phrenesis Puer Ab Alma Mater Est
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| I beg for being whole again,
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| I pine for being sane again…
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| Hear me???
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| Acta est fabula |