Missile apocalypse, harvest cannibal corpse.
Can you smell it? Well, it's the napalm, son.
I don't know why, I don't know when,
I would have lied there but there's, oh, lies.
Bullets caressing irises.
Turning to ashes the wind blows.
Powerful metal tech turning to phoenix birds.
I would have died there, I like to hold upon.
I don't know why, I don't know when.
You would have tried it, I like to hold upon.
War is peace, peace is war.
Islands sinking, emptying maps.
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