| This morning there are no rods or staffs
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| To comfort you dressed as a target
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| As you amble in your chains and stumble through
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| The corridors that lead to our makeshift valley of death
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| In the prison’s backyard
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| where you’ll give us your final breath
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| Last night I saw you dine with lovers and human tears
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| But glanced at me in ways
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| that brought to life my sleeping fears
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| That today you’ll bite my neck
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| Today you’ll bite my neck
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| That today you’ll bite my neck
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| Today you’ll bite my neck
|
| Today you’ll bite my neck
|
| Today you’ll bite my neck
|
| That today you’ll bite my neck
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| Today you’ll bite my neck…
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| and peel away the aging skin
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| Expose this lifeless body and the void
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| Divinity within (I watch my temple fall to pieces)
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| Divinity within (I watch my temple fall to pieces)
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| So tell me when I’ve read you your rights
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| When the guns are in their place
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| When your crime no longer seems absurd
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| When your crime’s no longer absurd
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| What will you say
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| when we ask you what are your final words?
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| When your crime’s no longer absurd
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| What will you, what will you say, Kezia,
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| when we ask what are your final words?
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| what are your final words? |