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Signature Tattered Rags

The Taste Of Blood

I hate to break it to you.
But your crisis has come to an end.
Whether you like it or not.
“I’m saving every bullet for your fucking face” Here we go again.
And these things always seem to happen.
I hope you remember me as I remember you as dead.
Fuck the hatchet.
Bury the body.
Fuck the hatchet.
Bury you.






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