Demon Host

Timber Timbre

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    Death, she must have been your will
    A bone beneath the reaper's veil
    With your voice, my belly sunk
    And I began to feel so drunk
    Candle, candle on my clock
    Oh, lord, I must have heard you knock me out of bed
    As the flames licked my head and my lungs filled up black in their tiny little shack
    It was real and I repent
    All those messages you sent clear as day, but in the night
    Oh, I couldn't get it right

    Here is a church and here is a steeple
    Open the doors there are the people
    And all their little hearts at ease
    For another week's disease
    And eagle, eagle, towel and scream
    I never once left in between
    I was on the fence and I never wanted your two cents
    Down my throat in the pit, with my head upon the spit
    Oh, reverend, please, can I chew your ear? I have become what I most fear
    And I know there's no such thing as ghosts but I have seen the demon host…

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    Composición: Timber Timbre

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