The New Hitmakers: How Social Media Is Rewriting The Rules Of Music Discovery
Chris Page - 05 Jun 2026
Pig My Sanctuary (spent Sperm Mix)
..Doubting ..Trying Not to look at the man who is dying To look for the face of the man who is lying The ambler gambler is low and loaded His rusty steed turns to burn into my soul I hear the cries My body lies in sanctuary The long way home I cannot seek He knows the pain its special place I know its look I know its face White silver draws black lines Bright whites the killing kind Two wrongs don't make a right Two blacks don't make a white Devotion isn't what it seems The broker of my broken dreams Hell is all that I see My cell is my sanctuary There's a black space where my soul should be A gaping wound where my heart could be I feel so low I feel like Christ I see my head is turning white The knuckles twisted raw and I'm so empty And there's no respite You prey together on the small Hell-vision shows it every night White silver draws black lines Bright whites the killing kind Two wrongs don't make a right Two blacks don't make a white Devotion isn't what it seems The broker of my broken dreams Hell is all that I see My cell is my sanctuary There's a black space where my soul should be A gaping wound where my heart could be I feel so low I feel like Christ I see my head is turning white The knuckles twisted raw and I'm so empty And there's no respite You prey together on the small Hell-vision shows it every night White silver draws black lines Bright whites the killing kind Two wrongs don't make a right Two blacks don't make a white Devotion isn't what it seems The broker of my broken dreams Hell is all that I see My cell is my sanctuary My Sanctuary Sanctuary My Sanctury Sanctuary My Sanctuary Sanctuary There's a black space where my soul should be A gaping wound where my heart could be I feel so low I feel like Christ I see my head is turning white The knuckles twisted raw and I'm so empty And there's no respite You prey together on the small Hell-vision shows it every night The ambler gambler is low and loaded His rusty steed turns to burn into my soul I hear the cries My body lies in sanctuary The long way home is what I seek He knows the pain its special place And I know your face Sanctuary
