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This is a dead letter tale If I could make this prints talk You made a deep mark, a deep mark on me And only saints say such things as these I slid under the floor Under the oak and the iron With you under oak and iron Under the thick and under the thin Where only fire grows I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins And I spat dead letter words And all the breath that I own Imprinted one word in red, I read And only saints say such things as these About the marks on your throat Under the oak and the iron Under the fat and the thick and the thin And all of that, and a few 100 more And only fire grows, I heard the fire grow alone in the I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins I forgot to tell you several things I forgot to tell you several things I forgot to tell you several things I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot to tell you several things, Ma I forgot