| Union square at about 9 o’clock
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| Friday night, boy was he rocked
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| Just a dumb beer drinking jock
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| Unaware as he staggered and mocked
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| On the platform you see a push
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| There’s a slam and an eerie squish
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| Hear the cracking of his back
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| The bloody limbs grind the red tracks
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| Insta-death your last breath
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| Split-second prayers won’t save
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| The shit you’ve stepped in
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| Insta-death your last breath
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| It’s all over now
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| And this is your last wind
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| Folks can’t deal with a mad mad world
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| Try and fly cute little girl
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| People all freaked out on the ruckus
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| Scrape — Scrape into a bucket
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| All dreams are six feet in the floor
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| Atop the clouds in front of Peter’s door
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| Finding your way out becomes a chore
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| Looks like death is a hopeless bore
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| Lie unexpected, lie unexpected
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| Dear mother brings you flowers
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| As you both rot away the hours
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| The aftermath of time
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| Thoughts decaying with your mind |