Napalm death – Twist the knife (slowly)

Gut level, below it allOff duty, just hereFeeling like a knife`s being twistedIn the hole of how it isFalse hope, an inch of pride that diedWhen I left to hideFrom the non-stop batteringOf conditioned opinionRest assured but not assured, all is wellBut I think we`ve dealt with the fearFor far too longUnborn suffer, unborn sufferUnborn suffer the normBorn to this, I thin notI stand againstTill the shit dropsWe see all but do nothingIn the hole of how it is

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