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To celebrate the guilt (the lies of whispering shadows) |
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And tattoo their words upon your ever-scarring flesh. |
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(Beaten, reject, follow) |
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To make believes there is no guilty, to wield the liar's dagger, |
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And clasp his hand to celebrate the countless unborn bastards. |
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To praise the guilt some more, in the eyes of the fallen. |
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Embracing the swine, this foreplay strangulation. |
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(Beaten, reject, hollow) |
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Though your disease is ever mine, I give you diamonds. |
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And in an act to seal the oath, I gave you roses, be careful of the fucking thorns. |
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In your eyes I saw the end, and these were your words, the promise of never. |
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Still in denial of the fact that our feeling dissolve. |
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I took your evil skin away with the blade of the liar's dagger, |
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And clasped your hand to celebrate your vile unborn bastard. |