| Abattoir |
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Death is on its wings
Riding you like a plague
The clock is ticking
Your life will fade
This nightly realm
Is void of your God
Cannot hide
Cannot deny
Cannot turn away
Cannot pray
You are lost
And hold no key
Cannot defend yourself
Death is certain
Drowning in the disgust
Your own regurgitated blood
Pain will keep your senses clear
Like visions of the dying cross
Surrender your flesh
To furnish the flames
It has destroyed you
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