i need to go the place where the blackouts live i need to roll like a corpse to the graveyard shift i couldn't ask for more cold than a collapsing rock over consciouness eyes under electric shock i need to use these fingers wrapped around this knife oh i would kill for a quite life never mind the obsessed theyd on't remember when all of our waking hours were spent submerged again i need a solid year removed from slid light i need to disappear i need a quie
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Quiet Life
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| The Damage Manual |
