| Got to work, need to play, jack into the might
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| What he chose, strike the pose, feel like shit tonight
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| Light a smoke, have a drink, wear the jester’s mask
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| Make a joke, have a laugh, seems like such a task
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| Walking thru the door, don’t need no passes
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| Walking down the hall, ain’t got no love
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| Smack you in the face, gonna break your glasses
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| Got a little dirt on her velvet glove
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| Feels like pain, then again, haven’t felt for years
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| Make a pout, try to shout, alligator tears
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| Try to draw the line on a clear glass table
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| Jam up the mirror, ain’t got no love
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| Tend your gaping wound if she was able
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| Got a little blood on her velvet glove
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| Mercy and Tuesday came to the show
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| Couldn’t hang backstage cuz they had to go
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| Make an appearance, need to be seen
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| Laugh at the staff, it seems they’re so mean
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| Pull the ace, make the face, walk onto the stage
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| Take a drink, give a wink, try to act his age
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| Taxi boys 'n' all that noise, lights are in his eyes
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| Power chord, mental ward, wearing his disguise
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| Standing in the wings, sweet sisters with a switchblade
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| Turns to walk away, ain’t got no love
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| Cut him just a little for the noise that he made
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| Gotta little mess on her velvet glove
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| Mercy and Tuesday, they’ve got the nerve
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| Took down our friend Roger, threw him a curve
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| But they don’t think two times 'bout those that they’ve hurt
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| Slinging their mud, throwing their dirt
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| Houston and April, witches of yore
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| Laughing and belching, acting the whore
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| Fishnets and vice grips, whiskey and coke
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| Teardrops and bloodstains, a snort and a toke
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| Mercy and Tuesday looked to the stage
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| Saw nothing but poses draped in fake rage
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| Shrugged their thin shoulders, sipped their weak drinks
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| Looked at their watches and started to think…
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| Mercy met April, Houston met the Tooz
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| They all had a love for glitter and booze
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| Cold shoulder the boys who don’t understand
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| So they joined forces and started a band |