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Ying 0utta sync

My father's bastard child and mother's burden/ an evil mastermind born for hurtin'/ ud think that finding Christ n g0in t0 church would/ make salvati0n mine f0r th earnin'
What you confess with the lips is bound to come to pass/ Pastor told me this l8a than I wish he had/ in melancholic timez Iv wishd to die, nd n0w I think I have/ I walk the streets in divine bliss as ignorance is what I am
the flesh is still fresh juxtaposed against a spirit half dead/ iam plagued with hurricanes in my head, evry fact is twistd and misconcept'/ the truth though salvation's fundement is a fickle phrase I no longa comprehend/ most devastating is the chains binding me to helplessnes- cud this b th end?

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