we tore down the rivalries, they were painted some shade of brown
broken were the footsteps that made up our heavy crowns
walked off, each all alone, but somewhere in heart we were saved
forgotten were the outcomes of each unplayful game
as the paint chips we flourish more with each rising sun
some suffocate beneath and so they grab a gun
and thats where it starts over, hatred rising anew
reminded of the past and the infections that we threw
so its a cycle, despised by those who cannot win
those ones who will keep it rising up again
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