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Cult:
As i retired home from hunting
I stood before my shrine,
Forgive me for murdering nature
It was the gun that killed not me
I toil in tears just for my love, at least the bush meat will win her heart...
Hunting has being my grandpa's cult
Tonight, sleeplessness capsize my dreams
I split its blood as tears dropped from its eyes
Saying, 'merci, merci'
But the greed in my hands squash its plead
It was the innocent Gazelle
awoh awoh
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