| Fresh night, hounded by the head
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| Very dark placid sky hangs above
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| No moon shining like an untouched ass of the boy next door
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| Beginning to feel the first impressions of a strange drug
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| Set the leathery skin of a female, straddling a furnace
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| Illuminates in blue
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| Hands melt against the burning surface
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| But feel no pain, kiss the burner, lips fall away
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| Blood runs down the insides of her thighs
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| She tightens her grip in one last exaggerated movement
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| Then falls to the ground a pile of ashes
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| The burner stands triumphant over the mound
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| And next in line, a young boy approaches
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| And is assaulted by the flames
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| Shooting out like sharp tongues of hungry animals
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| Of a hungry animal
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| The disciple now crouches in the belly of God
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| His second skin removed, the boy lay sodomized and tired
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| Sodomized and tired
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| Pleasure-seekers abandon new disguises
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| Threatening our existence with their faces
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| In the corner of the room I sit and I pray
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| I wash dirt from my face with holy water
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| I wash dirt from my face with holy water
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| Drown in the shroud of you, Nazarene
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| You’re hiding behind walls I can’t see
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| I’m hiding behind walls you can’t see |