A dark, lo-fi glitch piece on the day when I saw one of my best friends for the first time in six years. Too long to not see a friend.
Lyrics:
As you march to your death,
we all turn and face the ground.
The paradox of your life leads to the truth that is your end.
The leaves shade your face,
the breeze is cool,
it's almost perfect here.
Bones in the grave,
dirt showers over you.
A pine box,
two coins,
and a suit will take you home.
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