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Nutshell



Sully Erna - Nutshell - Текст песни

We chase the spread of lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight, yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
Noplace to call home

My gift of self is rapes
And my privacy is raked
And yet I find, yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I'd feel better dead

Thank you
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