superstition - funeral chic lyrics
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bad attitude, cold left hand, guarding every soul in the wrong side beyond every spiritual debt, the cards of the dirtiest dealer
i want to know what it’s like to hustle in the shade
what follows what follows me? ain’t nothin’ scarier than death’s own dread
the sh*t that hides under the reaper’s bed
to find a reason to wield a scythe, hide your face in a brilliant disguise
fear the reaper superstition
unimaginable f*cking terror
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