Album: The Pale Emperor Cupid Carries a Gun Lyric Pound me the witch drums, witch drums Pound me the witch drums Pound me the witch drums, the witch drums Better pray for hell, not hallelujah I'm the curled up fists Dead and hardened spiders Like two mangled crowns On the white heads of the meanest coiled snakes Folks say that I Look like Death Lived in the hotel of my eyes Blinds wide open like a whore Paid in spit from that hearse between her thighs
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