I won't to keep you grounded and I won't try to surround my head with hate. I'm hating my headache. I'll replace it with amazement. But I won't try to keep you grounded. I'll try to keep you astounded. I'm steeping across my grave above the soils where I once laid. I'm gazing at my tomb stone and the god above me. I'm not in a court room so he can't judge me. You're heaven sent. Pessimism is fading. Happiness anticipating. My closets clean. My graves been dug free. Now I look nice but my bones are mean.
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