Lyrics

Death will find you
Pleasantly
A rotted tree
In fields of green
Scalding hot skin
The dirt falls off it
I'm not afraid of them
'Cause I won't know
Scraps of metal
In my hands
I still can't figure out
Who I am
[Instrumental]
Dark skin, present youth
It's all I can do, ah
Dark skin, present youth
It's all I can do
Written by: Matthew Wainwright
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