| Holding the key to my darkened past
|
| She’s spinning with voices lost in past
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| The memory too disturbed
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| She’s a story that’ll never end
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| You’re a two studded chain, a tear in my soul
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| She’ll fly away with me when all said and done
|
| But now she’s gone
|
| I don’t believe in faith
|
| The art of finding love
|
| Refuse to let this cut me deep
|
| Now to make her pay
|
| Left to feel so numb
|
| Yes, you may cut me again
|
| But I mark these words with a blade that I’ll find you once again, Morrigan!
|
| She’s the coming of my demise
|
| In every way, seen her alluring disguise
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| A six-foot tall bloody, jet-black scythe
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| Is all that’s with me with the things I’ve done
|
| Because she’s gone
|
| I don’t believe in faith
|
| The art of finding love
|
| Refuse to let this cut me deep
|
| Now to make her pay
|
| Left to feel so numb
|
| Yes, you may cut me again
|
| But I mark these words with a blade that I’ll find you once again, Morrigan!
|
| I ain’t gonna leave from the post, so stay
|
| On the way, get away from the twilight’s scream
|
| I refuse to let this cut me deep
|
| I refuse to let this cut me deep!
|
| I don’t believe in faith
|
| The art of finding love
|
| Refuse to let this cut me deep
|
| Now to make her pay
|
| Left to feel so numb
|
| Yes, you may cut me again
|
| But I mark these words with a blade that I’ll find you once again, Morrigan! |