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Nickels Is Money Too

Climbing into fire, her hands are forceful

We're burying earth in earth

White hands, soft hands carefullyThis makes no sense

What's that sound I hear?

I'm lost in a state of confusion

Oh ground

I despise you, but rejoice in your essenceEnvy will cease my sky, greed will cease my sky

"Here's a farmer that hung himself

On the expectation of plenty"

At this time I feel there is no bottom to earthWelcome to the museum of the dead

Welcome to the museum of the dead

Endless gore becomes reality

Tradition's dug the grave

The inferno has commenced

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