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The Ghosts of Violence
She came from civil war wasteland.
To sweep the bloodshed from her boots,
To tidy up and turn the clock
To turn ahead again.
To walk away
along the gray
And lay the dead
to rest.
Nothing to escape my dear
No steps to haunt...
To sweep the bloodshed from her boots,
To tidy up and turn the clock
To turn ahead again.
To walk away
along the gray
And lay the dead
to rest.
Nothing to escape my dear
No steps to haunt...
