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Artiste:
Bird Of Ill Omen
Titre:
Play Dead
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Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
How can an intimate feeling between two halves be evenly distributed down the middle so precise you slice to work your magic just a reminder plastic ankles melt faster in your man made heaven you create a comforting space for me to lay on my face well i'm tired of tasting dirt i beg for more fingerprints around my throat your gold halo turns from rust to run down the necks of the saved ones trap me in your hands save me suffocate me like the rest sew my mouth shut so i can only read your brainwashed theories comfort my hands with rusty nails punish my neck by hanging it from this rosary all i ask is to see your face to prove that you're not as white as they make you out to be fuck your blue eyed god fuck this racist rule