[Verse] This impassioned woman succumbs Ever more to the dead myth Still poignant To the god of the weak and to hell [Verse 2] This mythical sadness that wells up Ineptly converges into passion Like all the resurrections That gladden the believers [Chorus] Poor cancer growing virulently Knowing naught of antibiotics Or soothing unguents And ascends to the heavens [Outro] Seated at the right hand of the Holy Spirit While the muscles Surrender themselves entirely To the ecstasy of the imagination
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