| In Paraguay there lives a man
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| Five rusty hooks on his right hand
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| And rage consumes his every living day
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| As one against the entire world
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| His hooks of deadly wrath unfurled
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| Slashing all the bastards in his way
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| He fights to die
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| He lives to kill
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| To cut your throat
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| His greatest skill
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| He’ll eat your kids
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| And punch your house
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| And set fire to your cat
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| So we’ll raise our hooks up to the sky
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| And drink to absent friends
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| Those far away and those who died
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| Still fighting to the end
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| Have no fear for life is short
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| And death will take us all
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| So when that bastard comes for us
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| We’ll meet him standing tall
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| (Die by the rage of the pentahook)
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| Many legends have been told
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| Of evil men from days of old
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| But none of them compare to what he’s done
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| Sadistic psycho through and through
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| There’s nothing nasty he won’t do
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| One time he shot a baby with a gun
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| He’ll break your neck
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| And eat your face
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| The foe of all
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| The human race
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| He’ll stab your mum
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| And drink your rum
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| This bastard can’t be killed
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| So we’ll raise our hooks up to the sky
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| And drink to absent friends
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| Those far away and those who died
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| Still fighting to the end
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| Have no fear for life is short
|
| And death will take us all
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| So when that bastard comes for us
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| We’ll meet him standing tall
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| Set sail for the twilight hall |