Borgne
everything is a fallacy
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You think you're making a revolution
But it's only in your head
You created this war and this revolt
Everything that surrounds you is a fallacy
You are just corpses animated by the sickness of your mind
You're living in the dirty world you have built
Can you figure out that you are false too?
You are just just a figment of your imagination
So many restless zombified corpses
Without an logical issue
Walking straight to their grave