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I'm tired of the morning sun, I fall in love with faded spits...
I'm bored of all the wars I won, detailed fairies on eye-lids...

I'm not made for the words you said, I spit upon your thrones and all the shapes you've changed for me, made of honey, flesh an bones...

A letter from the inner ghost...
Ink in arteries...
A revenge for myself, that's lost...
I change the enemies...

I can't forget your animals' noise...
I'm frighten by your peace...
I can't forget your blackshaped toys, your cancer-like disease...

I'm not made for the words you said, I spit upon your thrones and all the things you want from me, made of honey, flesh and bones...

A letter for the inner ghost...
Ink in arteries...
A revenge for myself, that's lost...
I change the enemies...

Today...

Text přidal Scoth

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