Out of the way there is a quiet place Where there` s no skin to scar And there` s no time to waste Full of emptiness I cannot touch the bottom Lines on her face falling in her autumn With her while she withers Away In a mangel-wurzel for the cattle Washing for the battle hymn to hurry up and hold on Slaughter is to you a manicure her nails on impaled palms Springing out of this flesh stirs a life at the bottom With her while she withers Away With her while she withers Away
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