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Quiet Passenger pt. 2 Lyrics

In the attics and crawlspaces of my mind
There are stowaways
And quiet passengers
They've living there since I was a child
Whispering softly amongst themselves

Waiting on unforeseeable events
Puppeteering from beneath my skin
Suffocating invisible boxes
Pools of blood up to their knees
I wear this crown of hate
Feel the blood run down my face
I know all your pain

My crown weights me to the ground
The medicine keeps me calm
Descendant of sickness
Descendant of hate
Descendant of sickness
Descendant of hate
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