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Put your hands out
Letâs see what comes your way
Bet itâs not much, still enough to
Let your hands stay
Burns your fingers though youâll swallow the pain
For the thrill of waiting for what comes your way
The golden pupils that fills your head
Will turn to ashes and dust instead
The sense of dying youâve lived with and bred
Fulfills itâs mission and the reaper turns red
Still you thirst with this
Itâs clean, but it comes from dirt
I can cure any disease
I cure pain and misbelief
The weight controls your very step
You canât ease them by paying your debt
Truth still hurts again and again
Guess youâre clean, but you come from dirt
Still you thirst with this
Itâs clean, but it comes from dirt
I can cure any disease
I cure pain and misbelief
Still you thirst
Itâs clean, but it comes from dirt
I can cure any disease
I cure pain and misbelief
Still you thirst with this
Itâs clean, but it comes from dirt
I can cure any disease
I cure pain and misbelief