"there must be a place for a wretch like me"

Can't tell collapse that it needs to slow down. 
Can't tell death that it shouldn't come around. 
And when they take my head and put it on a stake 
I'll know that guilt and disgrace keep the dead men awake. 

We've lived under this dark cloud forever. 
Waiting for the bad light to break. 

When they unearth these passages, 
will I appear to be proud?
Not if your listening close enough. 
Not if you're sounding it out.

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