Seven and Thirteen
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Lyrics
The trivial little things left in your wake Are beloved terminally infected limbs It is not the firing squad But the blindfold that makes us tense Loss of perfection leaves no cause To persist in searching Leaving me longing for the day That finally smothers all hope
Audio Features
Song Details
- Duration
- 00:21
- Key
- 2
- Tempo
- 160 BPM