I feel the pain in the palms of my hands
I just don't know where we even stand
It's like the centuries were ground into dust
I see our anger and our sadness rust
I see the years like a lesson missed
Another tip to ignore from the list
It's like our world was fucked from the start
We build it up to tear it apart.
I feel my god is my pocket machine
I feed my love for some dopamine
It's a cancer that grows on the heart
Kept alive by some black market parts
I see the signs in your twisted spine
Abuse some code to save mankind
It's a cancer that grows on the heart
Kept alive by some black market parts
Tear out your
black market parts
rip out your your
black market parts
supported by 7 fans who also own “Black Market Parts”
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