Eight Songtext
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Behold the masses
armed with their vile words
words that cut deeper than the sword
The orchestra of hecklers
will never cease the ruckus
as I am no audience
worthy of their acceptance
Do your worst my friend
For we shall meet again
My disease has stricken everyone
now this body you wish to kill
but today is the day and I'm still mine
To me, the tears I see are gold
the hearts I've touched burn cold
and in the darkness of the midnight sun
I know, regardless, MY WILL IS DONE
twas I who made you ill
armed with their vile words
words that cut deeper than the sword
The orchestra of hecklers
will never cease the ruckus
as I am no audience
worthy of their acceptance
Do your worst my friend
For we shall meet again
My disease has stricken everyone
now this body you wish to kill
but today is the day and I'm still mine
To me, the tears I see are gold
the hearts I've touched burn cold
and in the darkness of the midnight sun
I know, regardless, MY WILL IS DONE
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