Hate comes in whispers, not angry yells.
Creeping through your nightmares, leaving putrid smells.
And there's a million stories of sordid private lives.
There's an army of skeletons behind a wall of lies.
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Down underground.
Keep digging below.
Down underground.
You never know.
Beneath the plush hotels.
Beneath the oyster shells.
Beneath the glamour and grace.
Beneath the satin and lace.
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