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Best Days Of Our Afterlife Lyrics
by Hit
I was born in hell Was raised in heaven Grew my wings and horns When I turned eleven Something is wrong with me I just cannot feel it Everytime I earn my pride I just rip and peel it
This is because...
My father was the evil My mother was a saint Everyonce comes up to me And then they just pry and faint
These are the problems Of an angel-devil child These are the problems Of an angel-devil child
I was born in hell Was raised in heaven Grew my wings and horns When I turned eleven Something is wrong with me I just cannot feel it Everytime I earn my pride I just rip and peel it
This is because...
My father was the evil My mother was a saint Everyonce comes up to me And then they just pry and faint
These are the problems Of an angel-devil child These are the problems Of an angel-devil child
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