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lyrics
Solitary since ‘53
Corporeal debris
With the wind in the trees
You verbalize some hateful things
And the limestone will never tell anyone
Just how wrong you are
Looks like you’re gonna die alone
In these woods
With your collection of guns and old junk cars
The years haven’t been kind
But you’re feeling better
They say it’s God’s country
Well, let him fuckin’ take it back
All you’ve done is reproduce
Your progeny is not a tool
You wield your only living proof
Try to extend your horror clutch of rule