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The sound of the city that has invaded every synapse of your brain, Sister Iodine are scraping through your skull. The gasoline goo that oozes from your broken ribs, Sister iodine are sucking on the bitter black blood drips. The pestilent vacuum of your lungs, the dirty little nostril hair, the burnt larynx penetrated by the rusty screams of Sister Iodine. As you walk on the white asphalt of the underpath, the ceramic tiles crackle and break, the oscillator echoes your last foot steps. Your hands melt the snow as it falls from above, Sister Iodine gnaw at every fiber of your cement carcass. Protoplasmic blast and insect bite, BLAME is on you.