letra de baleful solitude - drive your plow over the bones of the dead
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there’s an itch i can’t quite scratch out of my eyes, another vision of ruin, a quietus. dress the truth of my god. look at the mirror, there’s blood on the mirror, bl–dy hands, a tearing mouth. see the end of my evil, percipient eyes. i can feel it now, feel the rope, the blood pooling all around our feet. your blood and mine, mixing in the red earth. welcoming each other, the ground opening up to hold it all
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