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Incurable disease on the day of rest |
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I'm walking on water in a sea of incest |
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I've got the image of Jesus embedded in my chest |
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I can't leave home without my bullet proof vest |
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Killing myself for the perfect honeymoon |
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Fighting with scorpions tied 'round my neck |
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I hear the pitter patter of a killer on the loose |
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Children use their fingers instead of words |
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Crosses burn our temples on slaughter avenue |
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It takes too much time for me to say I refuse |
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Time is digging graves for the chosen few |
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Children dig the graves of me and you |
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Describe the illness, I'll prescribe the cure |
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start your two day life on a two day vacation... (x2) |
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Spiritual cramp going for my ribs |
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Those gangsters toting guns are shooting spikes through my wrist |
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Children use their fingers instead of words |
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Fingers bury children under the boards |
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I can die a thousand times, But I'll always be here |
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With the powder skull secrets of forgotten years |
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The hangman noose is drenched with bloodstained tears |
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My hands are the killers that confirm my fears |
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Jesus wont you touch me, come into my heart |
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Where the Hell are you, when the fire starts? |
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I'm using my fingers instead of words... (x2) |
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On a mission of the father to reduce the gates of hell |
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The ivory bone eyed mother's flesh is starting to swell |
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I'm setting twenty-two tables for the funeral feast |
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Satan is by far the kindest beast... |