| It was a numinous night, wet and cold like the last week of autumn
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| I felt a shiver dividing my bones from the top to the bottom
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| And there were two of me then, one part flesh and the other a phantom
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| To the phantom I said, get behind me, ye vamp of Diablo
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| It said, you speak out of turn, I am born of the shadow inside you
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| And I have lived in your heart and with it I’ve become quite accustomed
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| Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain
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| I grow sick of your whispered betrayals
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| Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto
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| Choose your blade, I won’t be held as a prisoner of shame
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| I grow sick of your lies and your games
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| Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me
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| It was a coward’s decision when I offered you sanctuary
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| I knew it, right then and there that our cartel would be my undoing
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| But I, rationalized and believed every mangled half truth
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| Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain
|
| I grow sick of your whispered betrayals
|
| Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto
|
| Choose your blade, I won’t be held as a prisoner of shame
|
| I grow sick of your lies and your games
|
| Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me
|
| Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain
|
| I grow sick of your whispered betrayals
|
| Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto
|
| Choose your blade, I won’t be held as a prisoner of shame
|
| I grow sick of your lies and your games
|
| Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me |