If you burn them
With their words of fire
They will crumble
Into dust
They will be lost
But your skin will be stained by their ashes
If you drown them
With their songs of the deep
They will sink
Farther and farther
Slowly forgotten
But you will remember their last breaths
If you cut them
With their poems of glass
They will bleed
We will bury them
Miles underneath your feet
But their blood will remain on your hands
If you shoot them
With a gun of their memories
They will die
We will be sorry
They were so young, after all
But you will face their wrath in the afterlife.
If you kill them
With weapons of their joy and love
You will pay the price.
With their words of fire
They will crumble
Into dust
They will be lost
But your skin will be stained by their ashes
If you drown them
With their songs of the deep
They will sink
Farther and farther
Slowly forgotten
But you will remember their last breaths
If you cut them
With their poems of glass
They will bleed
We will bury them
Miles underneath your feet
But their blood will remain on your hands
If you shoot them
With a gun of their memories
They will die
We will be sorry
They were so young, after all
But you will face their wrath in the afterlife.
If you kill them
With weapons of their joy and love
You will pay the price.
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