Vocal clips must have faulty rounds
When I find that I'm the only one around.
A shot meets an echo
Then falls to the ground.
I count ripples in the sound
That have stayed for a while,
Ever since I swallowed the bullet in tragic style.
It's the pound of the sounding of words
Wished to speak,
It's the sound of the pounding of...
Keys, keys, keys!
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