| A last look at the field of the dead
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| The last glance of deceit
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| Sand whipe the white skin
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| Now I feel her choking me and bring me back to life
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| Sertao, no living man shall see me mourn and weep
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| A distant god says I’m his will, scorching heat of my land
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| A place for my mind, such a drought for my soul
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| Life is a dream, I stare at the sea, dreams of Dahomey
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| I search for the land where snow grows, mother can you hear
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| Barefoot and blistered white king of the Dahomey
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| Dahomey, the king of Dahomey
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| Searching, yearning for something more
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| Something else than bones and flies
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| This is my fault
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| A kingdom kneeling on its chains
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| A drought for my soul
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| Your eyes glint as you’re threatening my life
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| But have you ever seen true death?
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| In my morbid boundless thirst
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| You sill stare at the void into my eyes
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| No life, no dreams, no past, no name
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| White demon will reign with rage
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| It’s time for a mute deception
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| In my land I was a snake
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| Dahomey, kneel before the ouster rage of Dahomey
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| If you hide underground
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| The earth will speak
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| I command the ants who are no longer dreaming of sand
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| You’ll see
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| Earth snakes and stands in awe for I command
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| Sand whips white skin of demons
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| I feel her choking me and
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| Sand whips white skin of demons
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| And bringing back to life white skinned, sand demons
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| I feel her choking me and
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| Sand whips white skin of demons still alive
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| Dead kings will come to depose you
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| Then I will go and sleep
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| So, now
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| Wall up the doors to the women’s quarter
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| As they mourn |