Feasting on a broken bones brigade.
When the hands of life become a clash,
Feel the pain of being felt betrayed.
An empty space between the bones brigade,
A voice of pain and bleeding from the spitting,
A kiss of love and then I felt betrayed.
Are you the only one without the kissing,
I need a belly full of bones brigade,
A world of pain and anger from the spitting.
Coming back together like a clash,
You forget about the use of kissing,
Shove a finger on the wheels of thrash.
I had an empty heart and felt betrayed,
A way of leaving you alone and spitting,
A part of me against the bones brigade.
I need protection from the life of thrash,
Nothing like a trigger finger spitting,
A part of you and me against the clash.
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