原文歌词
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The literal disfigurement of the american home.
The folded hands of a thousand abandoned mothers,
Clutching withered breasts and dead children.
Statistics written in prose. hushed voices, begotten.
Morality and patterns of modern praxis, forever bent inward.
Revealing the true nature of all things.
Is a grey line.
Forever bent inward.
Man is god, everything rots.
