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злостулSitting 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
ребраI 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