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Lay next to your warmth
Angels with cyanide
We are in this dying cycle
Death to me going blind
This soil is turning orange
Fallen down valley farms
A good god is hard to find
Violence is multiplied by your thought
He will hate you anyway
Vote on this Election Day
Star to mark the injection
Brothers are you happy
Paper bag and straw deaths
A scab that you picked
Never goes away
Empty to adjust
Killed yourself to make everybody happy
Never my world to witness
The god you pray
Your shoes are of cattle’s blood
You can never wash
You can never until you pass ancestral

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The following comments are for "Fresh Soil"
by NucleusFire

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