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Hair Of The BeastThe king and queens in golden towersMen of God, Children of Demons Beggars and threadbare pariahs United under the lure of one poison Nearer to death at every breath, And yet we work each day To by night play a twisted game, And dissolve what years had built. Awaken from the cure in a shroud of errors In sickness, yet the torment of past remains. No ease, but one less night to live. So look to the future and the poison again. Hair of the beast that plagues us Destroy memories of pain with warped euphoria ever forgotten And when we come to our end All that remains is sickness. |