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The Taste of Blood
signature tattered rags
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I hate to break it to you.
But your crisis has come to an end.
Whether you like it or not.
I m saving every bullet for your fucking face Here we go again.
And these things always seem to happen.
I hope you remember me as I remember you as dead.
Fuck the hatchet.
Bury the body.
Fuck the hatchet.
Bury you.