| Death, she must have been your will
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| A bone beneath the reaper’s veil
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| With your voice my belly sunk
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| And I began to feel so drunk
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| Candle, candle, on my clock
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| Oh Lord, I must have heard you knock me out of bed
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| As the flames licked my head
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| And my lungs filled up black in their tiny little shack
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| It was real and I repent
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| All those messages you sent, clear as day, but in the night
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| Oh, I couldn’t get it right
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| Here is a church and here is a steeple
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| Open the doors there are the people
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| And all their little hearts at ease
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| For another week’s disease
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| And eagle, eagle, talon, and scream
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| I never once left in between
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| I was on the fence and I never wanted your two cents
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| Down my throat, in to the pit, with my head upon the spit
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| Oh Reverend, please, can I chew your ear?
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| I’ve become what I most fear
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| And I know there’s no such thing as ghosts
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| But I have seen the demon host |