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- злостул
Sitting on an angry chair
Angry walls that steal the air
Stomach hurts and I don't care
What do I see across the way, hey?
See myself molded in clay, oh
Stares at me, yeah I'm afraid, hey
Changing the shape of his face, aw yeah
- ребра
I believe, them bones are me
Some say, we're born into the grave
I feel so alone, gonna end up
A big old pile of them bones
Dust rise, right on over my time
Empty, fossil of the new scene