| A nice old lady sits on her chair
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| She looks so peaceful with her streaked white hair
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| Her family is gone, her husband has died
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| All this loneliness brings out her darkside
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| She’s the crotchety old bag that everyone knew
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| When you played as a kid she’d yell names at you
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| If you went by her house she would call the cops
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| You hated her so much, you hoped she would drop
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| Oh -- it’s in your brain
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| Oh -- you feel the pain
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| Now that you’re older a bit more mature
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| You understand now that no one is so pure
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| A little bit of evil inside any of us
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| In some it’s noticeable and actually a must
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| Others you must search deep within their souls
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| But with a little bit of prodding you bring out that troll
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| It overflows goodside and corrupts you and me
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| Trials and tribulations, we all go through them
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| Sometimes they end up in death
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| The good and evil fighting for the top
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| When will we ever be free
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| Torment -- torture
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| The ongoing force to be seen
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| Penance -- for whom
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| The only way to know is who wins
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| There is one other darkside that everyone can notice
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| It’s ever present and very hard to stop it
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| The threat of destruction by one man’s hand
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| The instant annihilation of all man
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| Yes, you guessed it, it’s the big boom
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| If it ever goes off the world will be our tomb
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| So we live our lives day by day
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| Hoping that the reaper will never ask us to pay |