| It’s all just a game, right? |
| But I forget the fuckin' shifty rules
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| I’m not a poet I suppose if the elite defeat the meter of my prose
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| And in no uncertain terms mines is a faith that isn’t confirmed
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| Ask the Berkeley position and what you’re hearing isn’t worth the listen
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| But I don’t want it all
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| I just want you
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| Don’t get me all wrong, the scars are defensive wounds
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| I won’t make a great liar, can’t debate the taste I can’t afford to acquire
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| Won’t stoop down to clean up well
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| If your parents and friends think I looks like hell
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| So strike a proud pose
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| You drew the long straw just to cram it up your nose
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| You want a suit and tie
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| To make bank and multiply
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| Join the unsatisfied
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| You know what?
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| You’re just not my type |