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I suffer from sleep paralysis often.
lyrics
Growing older and growing slow
The Plan gets botches, so it's whatever it does
I'll recess in domestic spree, where cold sleep fears a molten sky
I'll submit inferior design, with sabotage, in fear of demise
Two-faced Davies in the dead of the night; maybe one's a demon in the disguise
This room isn't big enough for the two of us..
Goodbye
Collect your penance...what do I say now?
Go to bed to fester in your wake at night time
You're plundered all pragmatic, but you don't know anything
You're sifting through the damage to find out only was there blood on your hands
Go to bed to fester in your wake at night time
You're plundered all pragmatic, but you don't know anything
You're sifting through the damage to find out only was there blood on your hands
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