"Kezia, my darling, please never forget this world's got the substance of a frozen summer silhouette,"
Said my mother through lips that were cracked with love and toil
before she added, "the warmest of blankets is six feet of soil"
She had a perfume called Pride that smelled a lot more like Shame
When she walked into the room I was sleeping, heard her curse my father's name;
It was our situation, our position, our gender to blame
It was the lonely grey of my father's eyes staring back in the mirror's frame
"Mother, I'm shaking while I write, tonight I'll stay awake and try to breathe away my fright
There's a letter waiting for me that I have yet to read cause I know it's not from you
And you're the only one I need, I'm tired and I'm cold and I want to go to bed
But there's no one here to tuck me in, so the shotgun will instead"
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http://metalopolis.net/news.asp?id=30934
http://musicserver.cz/clanek/25267/Protest-the-Hero-zahraji-tuto-nedeli-ve-Futuru/
http://musicserver.cz/clanek/24462/Conspiracy-priveze-Protest-The-Hero-The-Bronx-a-No-Use-For-A-Name/
http://www.rockjamradio.sk/page/node/1487
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