The furnace is cold, the timber rotten and old.
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The parasites have found the time to kill something bold.
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It¡¯s a lover¡¯s embrace without the lovers,
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It¡¯s the thrill of the chase without the hunters!
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It¡¯s the satisfaction of the other¡¯s reaction as they¡¯re going under!
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Our embrace carried us into town.
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No longer alone, their eyes on fingertips and throwing ghosts.
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You know who you are; you know what you¡¯ve done.
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I know where you are and what you have become.
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I justify my right tonight to take these words, sharp as a knife,
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and gut your memory, severing the ties that bind.
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You were my Judas; your lips still burn my cheek.
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You were a liar.
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You are a liar.
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Imprisoned to this ball and chain,
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If I cannot break it am I able to be Cain?
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I cannot love.
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I shall not hate.
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I will give anything to feel it¡¯s not too late.
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It¡¯s betrayal from one soul another.
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It¡¯s a fury that burns with all the others.
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It¡¯s emancipation. Infatuation. Desecration.
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I cannot live. You will not die. I cannot live while you are alive.
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You are dead to me.
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We are your failed children. We are your broken dreams.
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We are your faith denied. We are your jealous screams.
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We are the murdered. We are the murderers.
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We are the victims. We are your weapons.
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We¡¯ll raise a glass to the one-eyed moon!
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With the subtlety of dynamite the brothel will swoon
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Hurling their harlots screaming in scarlet,
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Muttering hymns for the nearly departed.
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The future has been set ablaze with the words of burning prophets.
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We¡¯re blind to golden yesterdays and their shimmering corruptions¡¦
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But I can see all too well.
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-----------------
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Beware The Tales Of Scorpions
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A Girl A Gun A Ghost |