| Tech support, feral army
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| In a cave on a failed bit of terraforming
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| 4 corners of paranormal
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| Get shorn for a thermos and pair of thermals
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| In the warehouse air where his dairy curdles
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| St. Vincent de Paul trying to square the circle
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| Circle the source of his power
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| Foresight born at the corner of Howard on sale
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| Cherry pick blue in the pale
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| It’s a blue-nose chewin' his tail
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| Losing his coat
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| Schmoozing a high and head-rush
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| Hack up bile over H1N1, and then some
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| One eye on the breadcrumbs
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| Other eye on the Drencrom
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| Other other eye on the income
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| Good knife and a grin
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| Shoot dice with the lice and the ring worms
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| Peg leg, smells like Medellin wake in the night
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| Make a pipe out of anything
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| Take 5, take a dive in the cellophane
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| Back out, black out somewhere fancy
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| Shaped like the backseat of Aesop’s Camry
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| Dude… seat full of chips and sandwich meat from the crypt
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| In the end, if you give an address in a river of piss
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| Don’t question the mystery fish
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| Just picture shrimp on a pillow of grits
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| Close your eyes, lick your lips
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| I’m at the cafe ordering a cup of fresh
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| Sarah gave me 2, I gave one to Rex
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| He said, «Fools ain’t shit plus fuck the pigs
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| They could never understand what Sumner is»
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| (Word up, word up, word up)
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| I’m off the grid
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| I’m through the gate
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| I fly these kites into the fray
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| (Word up, word up, word up)
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| I’m out the box
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| I’m through the mud
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| I fly these kites into the cut
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| NorCal fried bacteria
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| No ID survive the vivarium
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| Try soft wheels, sourdough and heroin
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| Eat with the chimera, fly with the seraphim
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| Might hold court with the cats and dogs
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| Who hold Kools like an orb in a dragon’s claw
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| In terry cloth robes outside detox surly
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| Curse at a beat cop, doctor a Slurpee
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| Adopt no Xerxes, fear no moon man
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| Stay true like a wolf wearing wolf pants
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| Oooh, never could avoid himself
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| For long enough to contain or employ as help
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| And now he look both ways at the asteroid belt
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| Buzzed, gross and wholly unloved
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| Still hear an ex in his head yelling, «kiss the ring»
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| From a fortune to Fisher King
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| Or from assisted care, blisters in his hair
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| New day, new diary of disrepair
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| Soups on, 2-ton crucifix to bear
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| No shoes, no shirt, no fiscal year
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| I said hello to Marshall every morn for 6
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| He yelled at me every time, that’s amore, bitch
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| It only took one tooth to crack the bug juice and chug
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| Turn a bum to a Sun Tzu, it’s bug
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| Outside home is an open swim
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| Occultism in the throws of corrosive wind
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| A cold meal with the ghosts of friends
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| A whole host of meds
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| A deal on a Tone Loc cassette
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| I stepped over a body in the door
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| I pretend he asleep but it’s probably more, God damn
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| Profound apathy, heart with a crack
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| I’m ships in the night
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| I’m darts at a map
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| Word up |