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The Guilty

Murder Death Kill

The line has been crossed
In the form of a blade across your throat
Blood for blood, bucket by bucket -
We'll paint this place fucking red

Everyone's a fucking victim
There's no way out from this place
Where do you go when death forgets you
You have no place to call home

Experience desertion and solidarity
For every action there's a consequence
You thought it was bad before
There's no more progress

Redemption ceases to exist
Disease has covered the weak
The guilty walk the fuck alone
No matter how hard you try
You cannot wash this blood from your hands