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Skin Me

sit here

blue light

washed outborrowed

pin me up and boil

welcome to the wrong...skin me...

silent filtersucks in the resting

whipping

children

posture frozen god.

hungry muted nations...skin me...it's just a feeling I have

it's like a feeling of death

you can't be in it for the cash

you must be in it for life

and if your houses I need

and if the payment is real

and if your mind is at ease

that is the death of music.

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