| My curse is alphabetic, dianetic, crucifix
|
| Your curse is post-magnetic, now they
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| Suckle from your drip
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| Their curse is so pathetic
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| They’re the real heretics
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| Our curse is not kinetic if they couldn’t
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| Break our grip
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| Foetid leeches sap their glands of inquisition
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| They need blinding sustenance
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| Don’t you dare speak that name
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| Don’t you ever speak that name
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| Break the very tenets that you
|
| Spit in my face
|
| Now I’m ready to obliterate
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| So send me all your preachers
|
| And I’ll put them all to shame
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| I’ll be the vanguard of their fall
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| Middle of their falter
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| Bezel in their rings
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| Dropping all the stones
|
| This serpent on my doorstep, well he’s got
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| A sweet southern drawl
|
| Lulling so you may invite his venom
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| Oh he was knocking
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| But didn’t know it’s coming
|
| Oh he was knocking
|
| But didn’t know
|
| My mutation was imminent
|
| He couldn’t help it, spouting invocations
|
| I said unto him:
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| First you’ll oscillate
|
| And then you’ll feel the fire burn
|
| And fornicate
|
| While all your words are coming
|
| Out cancrine
|
| Don’t just let him rot this hall
|
| I couldn’t do that even if I
|
| Wanted to
|
| Don’t just let him rot this hall
|
| I couldn’t do that even if I
|
| Wanted to be saved
|
| Then you’ll all fall in silence
|
| Then you’ll all fall
|
| And I will tell you all as
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| I said to your serpent |