My name is James Secord
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Everything was gone
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With this bullet
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In my sister's face
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Maybe then they
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Won't hear the screams
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Pull the trigger
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The mirror hurts us, the music notes
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And wonder how they won't be
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Times are hard enough
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Without days like these
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If you cry hard enough
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Maybe they'll hear your screams
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Life is rested, splattered neck
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Put a bullet in your own sister's
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Face
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Nothing now
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I won't be, won't be
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'Cause I am back again
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Black cats, red dogs
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Breakfast, rapist
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Rough bread, not dead
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Goodbye, rapist
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God damn me
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With a simple bullet
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The shit is simple
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You left a dead bullet
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Everything is, everything is dull, gone, gone
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Is dull
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Philosophical Significance Of Shooting My Sister In The Face. An Essay By James Secord
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Alexisonfire |