Among the mammoths the blood is brokered and dealt, leveraged on lives and put up for sale. You’re a dollar in the bank that never got spent. Your conscience is clean and you’re totally content. Signing the line. Smearing the blood. I'm a liar, I'm a thief, I’m ashamed of my crimes. You're right, I’m responsible for killing my own kind. My excuse is my ignorance, my personal gain. I pull the trigger and I take the blame. You sign the line but blood is on my fucking hands.

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