| Like maggots, they breed with headlines, dining the wounds in breathless
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| cadavers
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| Mirror blind and aimed for gold, Now watch a terror turn on its own
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| They race and they race to the carcass rot to feed
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| And just past decay, this design delivers life, but they prefer to play cancer
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| In chase for the sky, towers uprise. |
| In fear, the earth quakes for what’s forgot
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| They cut like the butchers with pride as their cleavers, as the tide prowls
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| their shores
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| They never listened when we screamed, «Wash the blood from your hands!
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| Rip off the veils! |
| Wash the blood from your hands and run, see what you forgot!»
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| Then the clouds met the sands as the cyclones began
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| In epic charge rose the hordes, all branches and thorns
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| As the stone from their walls broke legs as they crawled
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| The stars had no mercy, they screamed for blood in their fall
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| Six eyes pierce the night and now…
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| 24 teeth in each of the 3 makes 72 white knives your new ending
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| With every slaughter bring your kingdom home
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| How are we deserving this pain we are feeling?
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| How are we deserving this pain with healing?
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| And on trails these symphonies of agony…
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| Can’t you see? |
| We’re still demanding self-pity
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| Look to the moves of the things surrounding
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| We’re the only ones, the only ones who keep from growing
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| One day the reaping will return, and we’ll be butchers no more
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| Bring this slaughter home, and send everything above |