Tekst:
The Killing Tree Bury Me At Make Out Creek

th. Now, my last thought was of you screaming my name The anger in your voice as I collapse in pain Don't hold your breath for me, because I will let

can stand on your own two feet, Then you can get up off your fucking knees Stand up and wash away the blood that stains your soul You've given me reason

me how to see, Ears cannot hear, my mouth is too dry to speak. You have searched me, you, you know me, there is nothing good inside me. Purge me, make me