Originaltext
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Rich lead the poor, It's a fool's paradise,
That's your self doubt sacrifice
In anticipation we watch the sky
Then the stars fell bad and burn our eyes;
Oh my god, I could hang for this
On lover's rock, on lover's rock.
Here's my confession from a defective heart
Sourful and regressive from a de-fective heart
As in too many, as in too late, but I could never find that hate
