I met you by the river’s edge. It was devastating paradox. My lips were cold, my face was wet with January’s frost. But I felt fire, didn’t I, daddy? I felt fire, didn’t I, dear? Did you conspire to madden me? I will not retire to such adamant fear.
So I killed you then by the river’s edge like you done to me so many times before. You were the man I called my love. You were the man that I adored. But you ignited a fire. Didn’t you, love? By which you’ve burnt and expired. Haven’t you, dear? Stole my flesh, reduced my blood, my love, my blood right from me. Now I’ll be running all of my years. But in a way I always have just as the river has and will, Whose water rolls below the ice wherest your blood will swill, In the roil of earth’s royalty. My first love, my first kill. I left you then, I let you go in January’s chill. But I felt fire, I felt thrill. If it ain’t time that gets you, you know irony will. I felt fire, I feel fire still. The truest of fires, true love for a true kill.
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