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Название
Альбом
Текст песни
Lay my mattress on the floor, don't need a frame, I'm not a door
Close the windows in my room so I can scream inside the booth
Hope they hear me when I'm dead, my songs are paintings made of lead
But don't they sound so fuckin' nice to stay with you throughout the night?
Waking up, I'm feeling cold, winter wind blew in the snow
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