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Prison is a germ. Infections and ****** hand towels, place it over your mouth and breath. He talked about a place and described the images he's seen. Then he admitted he didn't think of me. I've been ripped from his memory. He cut me out with their dulling scalpels. He poured liquor over the wound and he stitched it at the seams. I've dream't of a father, sons and ghosts; it's all the same to me. I've been scrubbing your genes off my skin, it's the only way to stay clean.
0
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 2:21 PM UTC
I Felt The Lord In My Father's House.
Prison is a germ. Infections and ****** hand towels, place it over your mouth and breath. He talked about a place and described the images he's seen. Then he admitted he didn't think of me. I've been ripped from his memory. He cut me out with their dulling scalpels. He poured liquor over the wound and he stitched it at the seams. I've dream't of a father, sons and ghosts; it's all the same to me. I've been scrubbing your genes off my skin, it's the only way to stay clean.
penny-lane
Written by
American
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 2:21 PM UTC
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