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Artiste:
Sanctifica
Titre:
Epitaph
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Await my breath the colours blend to extract nutrition from black and white And off we go into the colour saturated part of you count me in the fraud you're planning Now the peasant lies still for he knows the lot knows why and when and whom to blame Set the controls for pleasant dreams speak the liars tongue to wake the ancient gods Set the controls for higher grounds Trust me to fetter my thoughts Count me in That epitaph met my eye through the wilderness now the crescent lies still for it covers the lot sweet saturation when colours leave no space to fill I dare you, count me in count me in the fraud you're planning That epitaph met my eye through the wilderness as a monument of that fraud colours leave the spaces in shades of grey and those salty tastes that labels the dissidents Morning mist one freezing night awaits your death salty taste lures that child to lick that child lies still for it knows the lot Final solution for the colourless and I'm off I'll count you all in That epitaph one freezing night awaits your death colours spawned by dust recall the saltier taste of hate