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When our souls blow in the wind 

And our memories fill the stars 

For our dreams scatter the universe

And dust we’ve returned  

For second chances are a myth

All shall rest in the bosom of uncertainty 

All but none 

They that indulged in the affairs of wine and meat 

And those that scraped and lived beneath 

For the stars refuse to differentiate 

Our achievements made minuscule 

For it may seem that life and death are both unfair