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Album: The Golden Age Of Grotesque |
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The beauty spot was borrowed and |
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Now my sweet knife rusts tomorrow. |
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I'm a confession that is waiting to be heard. |
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Burn your empty rain down on me |
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Whisper your deathbeat so softly |
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We bend our knees |
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At the altar of my ego |
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You drained my heart |
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And made a spade |
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But there's still traces of me |
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in your veins |
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You drained my heart |
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And made a spade |
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But there's still traces of me |
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in your veins |
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All my lilies' mouths are open |
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Like they're begging for dope |
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And hoping |
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Their bitter petal chant, |
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"We can kick, you won't be back." |
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I'm a diamond that is tired |
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Of all the faces I've acquired |
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We must secure the shadow |
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Ere the substance fades |
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You drained my heart |
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And made a spade |
[02:15.89] |
But there's still traces of me |
[02:20.19] |
in your veins |
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And we said 'til we die |
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|
[03:12.32] |
You drained my heart |
[03:15.42] |
And made a spade |
[03:20.46] |
But there's still traces of me |
[03:24.27] |
in your veins |
[03:31.25] |
You drained my heart |
[03:33.71] |
And made a spade |
[03:36.54] |
But there's still traces of me |
[03:39.56] |
in your veins |
[03:44.60] |
You drained my heart |
[03:47.61] |
And made a spade |
[03:52.14] |
But there's still traces of me |
[03:55.26] |
in your veins |
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And we said 'til we die |
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And we said 'til we die |