flying lions fill the sky
other birds are hiding
family jewel, patricide
dirty crown forever on your head
i could show you so many reasons to end this war
like this golden armor so worn, decaying
and this feeble smile we sieged until exhaustion,
your hand draws my flaw
how could we ever like this?
it's so heavy on my scales
guess we're not getting old
this is not self destruction
it's merely division
i guess we're not getting old
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