The pure of heart demand to be heard while the Devil preaches anything to pacify the World.
Yeah, come on, baby; dance with me, die with me.
To battle these demons that won’t let me go.
Sooner or later, we’ll have to decide; the broken, the heartless, together we’ll cry
We will infect you like a ghost in the machine.
We’ll spill your blood... we’ll haunt your dreams...
10,000 rioteers paint such a lovely scene...
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