| He’s just a simple man
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| Unlike anybody else
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| He loves the smell of burning flesh
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| He loves the scent of hell
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| You can see the flames above the palms, they light up the sky
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| They anger the horizon
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| He’s living off machines
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| And he’s slowing his breathing still
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| Sewn in gauze
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| He won’t, he won’t know what it’s like to feel lost
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| Leave your flesh behind, my son, my son
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| You’ll simply have to burn
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| Oh, but drowning’s far too sweet
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| Feel the hate in heat
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| But gasoline is cheap
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| We’ll do it while you sleep, while you sleep
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| He’s living off machines
|
| And he’s slowing his breathing still
|
| Sewn in gauze
|
| He won’t, he won’t know what it’s like to feel lost
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| Leave your flesh behind, my son, my son
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| Your marbled skin parades his sin
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| And if you survive, you’ll feel so alive
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| You’ll feel so alive
|
| His marbled skin parades his sin
|
| And if you survive, you’ll feel so alive
|
| And he’s slowing his breathing still
|
| Sewn in gauze
|
| He won’t, he won’t know what it’s like to feel lost
|
| Leave your flesh behind, my son, my son
|
| He’s living off machines
|
| And he’s slowing his breathing still
|
| Sewn in gauze, my son, my son
|
| My son, my son
|
| You’ll simply have to burn |