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The Jackyl - Fit for an Autopsy
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The Jackyl Fit for an Autopsy

The Jackyl - Fit for an Autopsy
Just like a curse
A walking plague of gluttony
Ripping through the stomachs
Of the needless greedy

The rotting apple that
We consume every day
The decomposing flesh that
Serves as armor for the hungry

We are ravenous
Starving for tragedy

We are war and peace
We are self destruction
We are life and death
We are suicide

Suicide

No one gets out alive
No one gets out alive
No one gets out alive
No one gets out alive

You are nothing but an empty, wasted life
You'll never fucking make it out alive
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