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Out of the way there is a quiet place Where there is no skin to scar and there's no time to waste Full of emptiness, I can't touch the bottom Lines on her face falling in her autumn With her while she withers away In a mangelwurze for the cattle Washing for the battle hymn to hurry up and hold on Slaughter is to you a manicure her nails on impaled palms Springing out of this flesh stirs a life at the bottom With her while she withers away With her while she withers away, away With her while she withers away, away Away, away Away