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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, towel, 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 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 have 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 |