| Here we are again with handguns for hearts
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| They had a master plan, wanted to tear us apart
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| Nothing to hold, all hope deleted
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| Our demise has been completed now
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| Nowhere left to go but down
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| The flames of hell they give me hope, I drown
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| In oceans of this tragic part of town
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| Where nothing’s heard for miles but the sound
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| Of children wishing they were safely underground
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| We are the walking dead, we hold this ghost in our arms
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| We take our daily breath and thank our unlucky stars
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| Tried to get by on bread and water
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| Craving blood poured from the alter now
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| Not much left to do but drown
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| In flames of miscommunication, down
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| Then out and off in search of someone proud
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| To translate what we truly dream about
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| As we lay in this bed thinking out loud
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| I’m screaming uncle, mercy me And my broken telepathy
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| For I’m left with nothing but this bloodless riverbank
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| West Memphis, please
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| I’m begging you to stop praying for me |