| Born on a dark and lonely day
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| Shivering screams of agony
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| Wracked by self-inflicted ache
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| Slicked with sick tears
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| Effluvia of a broken soul
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| Coalesce into humid hatred
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| Lightning of rememberance sharpens
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| The razor’s edge, fine and beautiful
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| On some dark moon, the rush will come
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| In what form I know not
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| Maybe rope, maybe fire, maybe powder and flint
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| Or as simple pounding flesh
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| But I will come
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| And you will speak my name
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| I am the unspeakable
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| I am the unknown
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| I am the stapled mouth
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| I am the thing which cannot be… yet
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| I am the unspeakable
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| I am the dead thing
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| I am the breath which leaves you
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| And I am the long years waiting
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| Thread of the pulse, sand on the tongue
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| Quaking with desire
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| Hatred burns the veins
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| I feed upon your fear
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| Nestled in the cardiac quarter
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| This undying snake of fury
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| Corruption twists to decay
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| Beauty turns to black
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| On some black sun, the dam will burst
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| And I will become
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| Formed of wire, or of steel, or of nails that peel
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| Instead of crucify
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| But I will come And you will speak my name |
| I am the unspeakable
|
| I am the unknown
|
| I am the stapled mouth
|
| I am the thing which cannot be… yet
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| I am the unspeakable
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| I am the red death
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| I am the long years waiting
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| And I am your dying breath
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| When will it end? |
| For if I knew…
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| When will it end? |
| Because for you…
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| I am the unspeakable
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| I am the unknown
|
| I am the stapled mouth
|
| I am the thing which cannot be… yet
|
| I am the unspeakable
|
| I am the dead thing
|
| I am the breath which leaves you
|
| And I am the long years waiting
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| I am the unspeakable
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| I am rusted rage
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| I am blood on the wall
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| I am the cold edge of the blade |