| Madchild
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| Unfortunately, the tortured scorch is dim
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| Approach the cave with caution or get skinned alive within
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| Fear the final day and pray that I survive from sin
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| Stand down, airstrike approved at war with one
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| Try to pull my self together but I trip and come undone, then fall apart at the
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| seams
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| This all started from dreams
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| I’m not as smart as it seems
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| Love to be lonely
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| Dancing on the desolate plains, the one and only
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| Madchild, marching with partially harsh
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| Especially fresh, nestled in this vessel of flesh
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| Insane, strain my muscles as I wrestle with death
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| With each breath, I strongly suggest
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| Anger clouding the issue
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| This is a vicious version of a victory
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| Certain patterns emerging, urging you to dig a little deeper. |
| Trust us
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| Crave the creative while detest and grave injustice
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| Prevail
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| I’m in the Field of Dreams spitting out spores
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| Summoning the locusts, tunnelling through floors
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| Running the length of a war with the framework of a carpenter
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| The Monarch’s dog monitor, tainted with the taste of the grace of an amateur
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| Even saviours fall victim to the hand painted massacre
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| I stay to the waistband of my sonar-triggered ambassador
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| My hoping to open the gates, and unleash the ravenous scavenger of fate
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| With ravens heavier than the strength of an ape
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| Using live sinuous bait
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| I remember it now
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| Using my hunting knife to chop the worm inside of the cow
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| Eating the bowels, using the hides
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| A hideout amongst the owls
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| The time is now
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| Follow your sense, not your smell
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| The injured ones have fell
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| Sincerely signed
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| Prevail |