| Oh my god!
|
| You reside in the details
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| Take my audio out and really wail
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| Oh yeah!
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| You’ve got blood to bleed
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| But we’ve got mouths to feed
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| God please send me courage
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| To wear this darling dress
|
| When there’s murder on the front lines
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| And blood in the headlights
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| She looks up and quietly says
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| «Are these atoms?»
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| «These are atoms.»
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| «I'm holding them.»
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| Slipping on the science of an optic nerve
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| Cut that in half, you’ll see what I mean
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| God please send me guidance
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| And the perfect halter-neck
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| When a door becomes war
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| We’ll win with our effortless style
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| Sit down!
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| This is really napalm
|
| And it’s a sea of such passion
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| A neon birth canal
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| Sit down!
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| He was really nervous
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| In that sea of such passion
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| What a way to learn
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| When she gets what she wants
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| She won’t care anymore
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| And carry on for an age
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| There’s no way to make her pay
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| Unless you cut her gums out with knives of heat
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| And flatten her bones to pulp and bruises
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| Yeah! |
| Come on, stand up!
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| Easier to let it spill back into our mouths
|
| Than to wrench it from a centerfold
|
| This is the opera of the crystalline
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| Sudden skin for the playground scene |