Mangled with Confusion
You weren't supposed to leave. And these songs are two halves of the consequence. One half still orders one too many specials and seizes violent blasphemy. It eventually comes to rest mangled with confusion, wrought with anger, and rotting a bitter stench. The other half still sits politely beside and tries incessantly to understand. It picks the skin around its fingernails red and always goes to bed unfulfilled. Both would like you to come back and tell them what they're doing wrong. Or that you don't mind.
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