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The devil was in my ear
Persuading me to take my life
And so I ran away, in search for god
And I found her sitting and weeping
Under a sycamore tree that had been lifeless
Drained of its sap
As I approached her
She transformed into ashes
As she whispered to me
To warn them
Of the storm to come
And the sound of great mother's weeps still echo in my mind
And it pierced my heart like needles
And so here's the fucking warning
Of the storms to come
And the great sycamore
Will rise again
The storms to come