| I see his face in the back of my mind
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| He’s the only one there and not hard to find
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| I see his cold dead eyes staring out at me
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| Burning my memory, reminding me
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| I shot a man, killed him stone cold dead
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| I put two bullets inside of his head
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| I piled up his body, in a neat stack
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| Then called the number, into the big shack
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| I feel the cold hand of death on my shoulder
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| I feel myself getting bolder and bolder
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| He’s like my new father, he’s comforting me
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| Death said his son, like every father should
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| His voice whispered calm, and strong as he stood
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| Look into his eyes, deep down inside him
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| Holding him in place, gripping trembling limbs
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| You’ve got a lot to kill to catch up to me
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| So, get busy, son, get on our killing spree
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| I took his words and made them my own
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| My hands aren’t stained, no blood anywhere
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| There’s just (the) smell of death in the air
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| This is my future in this war
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| This is what I’m here for
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| To kill more and more!
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| Not like before!
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| Kill more and more!
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| Not like before!
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| Not now. |
| Not ever!
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| Not like before, kill more and more!
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| I took his words and made them my own
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| With my first dead man seeds had been sown
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| My hands aren’t stained, no blood anywhere
|
| There’s just (the) smell of death in the air
|
| This is my future in this war
|
| This is what I’m here for! |