Feed On The Weak
Obituary
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Spirits call, spirits rise
Desolate sky, spirits die
Haunting for the silence as the sickness falls within
You've got your strays, the mice are killed
It stems between the sick
Spirits call, spirits rise
Desolate sky, spirits die
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Haunting for behind them finds us meaning on the way
The words fill, the chapters come
It dissipates, it stays
Spirits call, spirits rise
Desolate skies, spirits die
Falling hard, arriving fear
Feeding on the weakest core