flowers of skin and bone,
we’re all alone waiting to die.
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Crucified to my past life, be my blue suicide.
Self-esteem makes little sense, primitive and malcontent.
I guess a smile has it's place, but there's a skull under my face, and it's in control.
I do what I'm told.
Lovers in self-denial, fucking execution style.
Drown the summer, burn the beach.
Going under, drinking bleach.
Can you stay legit and keep it real?
While your hunger begs you for mass appeal, so you can hide from what time won't heal
Coma Cinema - Blue Suicide
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