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The more I look at you,The more I like me
The end of pain my trophy,While you look like a martyr
Headed for saint hood,Lay me on the alter
Seperate me from my limbs,Hang my head on a pole
The more I listen to you,The more I like the way I sound
The words I've said,Cover me in my own shroud
Your brush with death doesn't compare,You act so infantile
ANd you can't even do that fair,I give you inches and you take miles
Headed for sacrifice,Lay you on an alter
Leave you to your own vice,Throw away the mould that made you
The things I've done,Living under the gun
Have you done that,The suffering becomes pleasure
And hate becomes an art,Darkness becomes warmer
And death becomes reward from which you work Headed for sainthood
Lay me on the alter,Separate me from my limbs
Hang my head on a pole