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Napalm Death - Twist The Knife (Slowly)
Gut level, below it all.
Out of duty - just here.
Feeling like a knife's being twisted in the hole of how it
is.
False hope, an inch of pride that died when I left to hide
from non
stop battering of conditioned opinion.
Rest assured but not assured, all is well, but I think we've
dealt
with the fear for far too long.
Unborn suffer the norm.
Born to this - I thin not!
I stand against till the shit drops.
We see all but do nothing, in the hole of How it is.
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