[ It was in the two hundred and twenty first hour1 ]

It was in the two hundred and twenty first hour1

You pulled the cord and cut my power2

Now I’m in a twisted position3

As I’m uncovered by the city mortician4

My body’s cold and chilling white5

I died without the will to fight6

Look at me now, you made what you see7

Don’t you like what’s become of me?8

Author notes

I dont know what it is but I LOVE specific numbers in songs and poems, call me wierd

yes?

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