| Put Some Stank On It |
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Wake the sleeping, wake the sleeping.
The town is on its knees, the town is on its knees.
The city is surrounded.
Torches can light the paths,
From the fields to the river.
Take the children to the sand;
They don't need to see this.
Cast your spells, swear by the stars.
Some pray for miracles.
Nightmares have been traded for dreams.
You have buried all your angels.
All their stomachs are full.
They sold their souls for gold.
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