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(PFYqC)
Purifying The Holy Rock
I Find That We Have
Cus You Were The Song
That I'd Always Sing
Fewer And Fewer In Kind
You Were The Light
That The Fire Would Bring
To Melt The Gilded Seams
My Palms And Fingers
But I Can't Shake This Feeling
That I Was Only Pushing
Still Reek Of Gasoline
The Spear Into Your Side Again
See My Birds Of A Kind They
