| The darkness is like a swarm, it rules me
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| From their vile throats I irrigate the fields with blood
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| Who I am does not play a role, who wrote all these lines
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| I sow anger and pain and they sprout in time
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| A swarm of rats under the sleeves, a swarm of locusts in the pocket
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| Hanging among the cobs, the raven pecked out my eyes
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| That fucking reaper, life has no weight
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| They follow me like a herd of stupid sheep
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| Living scarecrow in rags
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| Among the green stems
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| I will listen to my darkness
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| There are millions of blades in the body
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| On Triple Six FM you will hear my sermon
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| I am their lord and god, my abode in soot
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| Bite your tongue, don't make a sound
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| I will be the one who will lend a hand to you from the thicket
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| My gaze from the void, I am the one who walks the ranks
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| They will burn me by inhaling poisonous smoke
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| The harvest day is coming, the fields are thirsty for blood
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| Human fruits will die against their will
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| Killing all mortals with a sharp sickle
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| Five-pointed stars far outside the window
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| Guardians of the fields, season of dark nights
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| Their altar of candles asks for people's lives
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| An evil source of death, by the hands of children
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| In the realm of shadows, in the grass the skin of snakes
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| Days succeeded each other, giving new corpses
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| The city ached from illness, smoking into its chimneys
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| I, along with him, blew smoke into the sky
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| Among corn and gloomy plains
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| Steven was right, I scattered your ashes
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| Their fear hovers over the poisoned soil
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| Boarded up windows, darkness is our dogma
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| Velial slices from flesh fiber |