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Air poured, my thoughts shrouded by cloud forms |
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The line ravaged in the wake of this ground war |
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The quintessential outlaw |
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Eye of the storm, my tears fall as a torrential downpour |
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The flood, your death wish written in blood |
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I came in from the cold, clothes dripping with mud |
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Gripping a club, primitive, a stick is a dud |
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Swinging a punch, the bad seed pick of the bunch |
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I drink black rain, take another swig and I'm drunk |
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Taste venom on the tip of my tongue, my lips cold |
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Spitting out toxins I couldn't dissolve or withhold |
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I never sold my soul for fool's gold |
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So I'm still free, but too numb to feel pity |
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Some broke down, now the still city's a ghost town |
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Snowflakes cover the ground in white carpets |
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Seasons of espionage as time passes |
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The lion hearted, survival of the hardest artist |
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My open arms embrace darkness |
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Still craving carnage and infamy |
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But even parasites starve in this carcass of industry |
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[Scratches] |
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[Verse 2:] |
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You can see me as cynical, trapped in my own gothic vision |
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Encapsulating chaos in this composition |
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Calculated like the lies of a politician |
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Gripping the slingshot, I size up the opposition |
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I drop a match in the clouds and watch the flames rise |
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Fire water falling from these grey skies |
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To paint your train lines, chrome over red brick |
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Reflective, like a gemstone in a cesspit |
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Jehst gives belief to a skeptic |
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The truth neglected like open wounds that turn septic |
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Infected by the forked tongue of a liar |
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Now my thoughts are the colour of fire |
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And my night's spent running the ? |
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Unspired by the freak show |
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I see ghosts dance in the trail of my weed smoke |
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My words are folklore, that survived the Cold War |
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New World Order and so forth |
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I go north, ankle-deep in snowfall |
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Leaping over dry stone walls with a ? |
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Steam clouds rise from my fiery breath |
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It's the last twilight before the silence of death |
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[Scratches] |