55 lines
1.6 KiB
Plaintext
55 lines
1.6 KiB
Plaintext
Crows, wipe the blood off the end of your claws
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Said the vulture, lets gather like storms
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For the war, for the war
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Crows, as the night turns its skin into coal
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Dark as corpses but cluttered with gold
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They will label you thieves, wolves, and whores, but
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You are nothing less than angels
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You are nothing less than angels
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You are nothing less than angels
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You are nothing less than angels
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Cast down and covered in black
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Ain't this the bloodiest mess in the world?
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Said the virgin, a torn little girl
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Boy, you went and made a sweet wreck of my soul
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And I've already forgiven you
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And blood was running down her dress
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In streams, into her hands where she was stitching
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On the flesh he'd left in sections
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On the carpet near a bed that
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Never slept while you was sleeping
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In her clothes that he had laid with
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On the floor with all his fingers
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Crossed, in hoping that that distance wouldn't grow
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But how it grew, and how it hurt
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And how it hallowed every memory he'd
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Never felt was threatened by a thing the world could
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Conjure up to kill them
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Oh, but he let it kill them
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What a bunch of fools we lovers are
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And now she's smiling
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With herself put back together
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Just a shadow of the past before the war, all sewn together
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Like a city sick from
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Storms and sick of waiting for a
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God to call the floods out of her home
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What a bunch of fools we lovers are, we lovers are
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When tempted by the taste of flesh
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"My boy, you are nothing more
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Than a thief and a whore in a suit of the finest of armor"
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Laughed the vulture, laughed the vulture
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"Pathetic little child, I am embarrassed for you"
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_________________
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Name Future Wars
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Artist La Dispute
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Album Vancouver
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