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Our fingers are missing they litter the ground grass will never grow near
this town again the frames on the walls are crooked and empty these shoulders bend low towards the dirt I made a deal to get us out of this place but I am falling apart with each step I take and as the pieces fall I count them all.
this town again the frames on the walls are crooked and empty these shoulders bend low towards the dirt I made a deal to get us out of this place but I am falling apart with each step I take and as the pieces fall I count them all.
