Sickness and The Saviour
The sickness is calling, Asking for my hand, I'm in a dark place so empty and bare. I pray for a saviour, Screaming at the top of my lungs, I look around to find no one is there. Sickness begins to beg me for my soul, Tells me I have no control, I find a gun and grab the bullet, Pleading for someone to save my life. Then a man comes and there's a flash of light, For a moment I am blind, All I hear are battle crys, The fight is fierce but full of life. Sickness dies, The man smiles at me with all his might, I take his hand and with a tight embrace, We fly away to somewhere safe.
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