| 10's |
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My skin is cold, transfusion with somebody morose and
Old, drop into fruitless dying
It was tempting and bared, the whoring angel rising
Now burning prayers, my silent time of losing
(chorus)
My foes - they can't destroy my body
Colliding slow, like life itself
Long for the blur, we cannot dry much longer
Cement to dirt, disgusted with my cheapness
(chorus)
(chorus)
Reaching down, staring up (at the forgiver) |
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