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The Prizefighters lyrics
If there is one thing I can't forgive
It's making me feel the weakest, and limp
I should've hit you like I meant it
But I can't hear over those words
I'd knock you for that, and your eye's going black
This kind of hate makes me sick
But I'm onto it, I'm onto it.
My muscles are wasted, a useless red paste of it
Bluing the white in you, slapping your face with it.
My hook softening, as I listen
To the hollow sound that's drumming your ribs
I lose the grip on your neck
When it's over, and you're gone,
I'm sitting and crying.
This kind of hate makes me sick
But I'm onto it, I'm onto it.
My muscles are wasted, a useless red paste of it
Bluing the white in you, slapping your face with it.
What was that meaning, that breaking of skin
Have I proven it, have I proven it?
Part of these releases
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- Track 7 on The Pace Is Glacial
- 6 Nisei Fight Song
- 8 In the Sun
The Prizefighters Video
Thanks to
Diana
for submitting the lyrics.
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