Текст песни Saints

At seventeen I heard my calling

To suffocate with my embrace

Murder ten to save a hundred

Drown the whole world in my faith

From a long line I descended

Immaculate, an empty womb
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And the spur is desperation

Maybe God is desperate too

In watermarks and lonely places

A private measurement of time

In made up names and blacked out faces

I will trace my blood line