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by Sin. Crosses, scars and faded saints, Dreams shattered with blood-red taints. Glass carving flesh and bone, Hearts broken, though made of stone. Clear as crystal, sharp as knives, Useless as the loss of a-thousand lives. Pointless living, odd holding-on, Why keep breathing? Let�s be done.. Struggle on with your sinning, Fail again, Satan�s winning, Give your soul ten times more, Waste your breath, dirty whore. A whore of God, a slut of evil, Still you try, though it�s feeble. Praying to nameless devils, Lose some more, fall ten levels. |