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Ouhamahiche
The factory of the death
That rains birds
In the eyes, of the child
He will not want to play any more
In the meadow
Factory of the death
Factory of the death
And cross the cloud of fear
In the sky, when the night falls
And the singing of the bird of the night
Will make me forget
That tomorrow I work
In the factory, of the death
Factory of the death
Factory of the death
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