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Paroles: Wounded (the). Monument. Child.


As I see you here a sleep,
Arms wide open your eyes a little weird.
And a shivering on the rhythm,
Of the deeds of a very old man.
I want to heal this life in which you have been,
To wash away the things you should not have seen.
To shoot the bastards in your head.
As I forgot that you are already dead.