| Second two or maybe a day
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| I glance over yellowed pages
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| Touch the scares of your unpure soul
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| I drown in sticky passion of your memory
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| Born from chaos wind of hatred human faces it posses
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| The sand of the sarcophagus of memories blows
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| And every seed is a diamond blade
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| In the tact of their language beats my heart
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| And pass centuries
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| I touch the scares of your unpure soul
|
| Sometimes death comes at night
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| Sometimes death is silence
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| Sometimes death scares the wind
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| Sometimes death gives birth to the dark
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| Let the show go on
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| I touch the scars of your unpure soul
|
| In red iris daylight dies
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| Nothing shall escape from me
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| Sometimes death is filled with the blood
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| Sometimes death fades away in fog
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| Sometimes death il like a black storm
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| Sometimes death scares the wind of life
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| Sometimes death comes to you at night
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| Sometimes death gives birth to the dark
|
| I touch the scars of your unpure soul
|
| Sometimes death is filled with blood
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| Sometimes death fades away in fog
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| Sometimes death is like a black storm
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| Sometimes death has many names |