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lyrics
And she recalled the healing fire
As the procession circles and swells
Crude boots settle soft land
Chants of victory
Cruel, pitiful
Chants of glory
Faded, deplorable
And on his waist swaying
Patches of naked flesh
An obelisk creeping satisfaction
Rotten persimon
The fruit is ripe
That land is soiled
An irrigation of blood
His neck is parted
Swiping from inside
A coffin beneath the ground
Fierce, beautifil
She comes in colors
Faded
credits
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