john taylor


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1996-2016 khanada rhodes

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run of the mill
i cried a river i cried a river for your years 
pain and torture the fear insane and lonely 
i can't die for you i only wish that i'd been there 
to ease your moments to fan your fading embers 
i scream on the outside for these dizzy prisoners 
an evil mistreatment to service our weaknesses 
and in your greatness lay a sadness circumspect 
that in every victory lost only a hollow sound remained 
no easy music when you're locked up in your pen 
some hidden basement depraved, deprived, abuse meant 
i'm sick of the future it's all stormy corners 

abandoned and beaten you're just sport for the jailers 
god give me a reason for these bloody waters 
you get to know just how bad things 
are when you know this is run of the mill 
and under his armour lay a friendly politesse 
a gently surging note of hope hope for us all 
i'm happy for you you seem to find some peace at last 
so complimentary we are of you down here