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those cries cut the air through
but they never seem to reach you
all women and
slaves
little bastards on their breast
they've seen spears and arrows
piercing their lover's throat
dragging them down the river Styx
with every breath they take
and they sit back and gaze
for woman are helpless
their agonized souls,
dancing in your eyes
bony hands dancing in the air
wastelands, love
ruins of the home we build
I could never touch you
blood on you demands my sanity
don't you understand?
these are wasted murders
